GIFT  OF 
SEELEY  W.  MUDD 

and 

GEORGE  I.  COCHRAN    MEYER  ELSASSER 
DR.  JOHN  R.  HAYNES    WILLIAM  L.  HONNOLD 
JAMES  R.  MARTIN         MRS.  JOSEPH  F.  SARTORI 

<•  the 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SOUTHERN  BRANCH 


JOHN  FISKE 


3157 

eks 


Ts 


book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below 


V- 

M 


TWENTY   POEMS 


R.  K.  WEEKS 


NEW  YORK 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1876 


100495 


Copyright. 

ROBERT   KELLEY  WEEKS 
1876. 


-PS 


CONTENTS. 

O 

MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

PAGE. 
ON  THE  RIVER 1.3 

ON  THE  BRIDGE 5 

AFTER  TWILIGHT 7 

ANADYOMENE    9 

URANIA n 

THE  QUIET  MOON 12 

A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM 13 

IN  SEPTEMBER 19 

A  SUNSET  IN  NOVEMBER 20 

A  CLOUDY  DAY 23 

BEFORE  THE  SNOW 25 

A  SNOW  SHOWER  IN  APRIL 26 

AN  OLD  PLAY 27 

SONG 32 

LOVE'S  INCAPACITY 33 

ON  THE  SHORE 34 


iv  CONTENTS. 

A  HILL-TOP 

...         36 
A  CLIMBER 

•  •      41 

ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE 

BALLADS. 

How  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN 107 

125 

GUDRUN       . 

.    16? 
A  SONG  FOR  LEXINGTON    . 


MISCELLANEOUS     PIECES. 


POEMS. 

— * — 

ON   THE    RIVER. 
"QETWEEN  green  fields  and  wooded  heights 

The  river  stretched  at  ease  ; 
The  starry  points,  the  dazzling  lights 
Struck  from  it  by  the  breeze ; 

The  wavering  smoke,  that  floats,  that  trails, 

The  rippling  flags  that  fly, 
The  glistening  prows,  the  sunny  sails 

Of  boats  that  pass  me  by ; 

The  gulls  that  flying  here  and  there 

Now  darken  and  now  gleam ; 
The  clouds  that  melt  upon  the  air, 

Like  snow  on  some  slow  stream ; 


ON  THE  RIVER. 

Awhile  I  watch  them  dreamily, 
And  then  I  hear  once  more 

The  winds  that  search  infinity, 
The  waves  that  beat  the  shore. 


ON  THE  BRIDGE. 


the  mysterious  lights  that  seem 
To  lure  it  with  a  smile, 
Green  between  greener  fields  the  stream 
Winds  westward  many  a  mile  ; 

The  west  wind  with  a  lingering  hold, 

Voluptuously  grave, 
Stays  every  hollow,  touched  with  gold, 

Of  every  little  wave  ; 

The  light  oars  dip  and  drip  and  shine, 

The  river  grasses  sway, 
The  foam-bells  in  a  glimmering  line 

Mingle  and  melt  away; 


ON  THE  BRIDGE. 

Athwart  the  sunset,  flying  low, 
Through  light  from  dark  to  dark, 

A  few  belated  swallows  show 
Like  whirling  leaves  ;  and  hark ! — 

Tis  but  the  cricket's  earthy  song, 
The  wind's,  the  water's  sigh, 

That  mingling  deepen  and  prolong 
The  silence  of  the  sky. 


AFTER  TWILIGHT. 

i. 

QTRAIGHT  from  the  golden  west  serene 
It  seemed  to  come,  the  restless  breeze, 
That  bent,  that  lifted,  ill  at  ease, 
The  massy  foliage,  darkly  green, 
Of  June's  voluptuous  apple-trees ; 

2. 

Like  great  uneven  waves  they  seemed, 
Forever  breaking  with  a  sigh 
'Gainst  that  unclouded  solemn  sky, 
Whose  mingling  hues  so  softly  gleamed, 
So  silently  began  to  die. 


AFTER    TWILIGHT. 

3- 

The  mellow  gold,  the  tender  green, 
Slow  dying,  died  away  at  last, 
Once  more  the  sky  but  as  a  vast 
Unquestionable  vault  was  seen, 
Its  gentler  influence  overpast. 

4- 

But  still  the  western  breezes  blow, 
And  still  the  tree-tops  sway  and  sigh  j 
All  night  I  hear  them  where  I  lie, 
Wierd  wandering  sounds  that  come  and  go, 
That  come  and  go,  and  never  die. 


ANADYOMENE. 

r  I  "'HE  passionate  first  flush 

Of  that  great  sunset  came, 
And  vanished,  like  a  rush 
Of  self-consuming  flame ; 

But  deep  within  the  west, 
Long  lived  the  afterglow, 
And  on  the  water's  breast 
Slow  heaving  to  and  fro  ; 

And  where  the  lower  blue 
Was  lost  in  tender  green, 
An  eager  star  burst  thro' 
The  palpitating  screen ; 


io  ANADYOMENE. 

And  darkly  whispering  went 
The  wind  among  the  grass, 
And  o'er  the  waves,  intent* 
On  what  should  come  to  pass  ; 

Eastward  I  turned  my  eyes 
In  vague  expectancy, 
And  saw  the  moon  arise 
Like  Venus  from  the  sea. 


URANIA. 

i. 

TN  the  sky  a  pallid  gleam 

Follows  sunset's  rosy  glow, 
And  the  clouds  that  all  astream 
Passionately  coloured  so, 
Cold  and  grey  and  withered  seem. 

2. 

Then  the  exhausted  clouds  between, 
Faintly  smiling,  wan  and  fair, 
Twilights  lonely  star  is  seen, 
Out  of  deeper  depths  of  air, 
Charming  with  a  milder  mien. 


THE   QUIET    MOON. 

T  T  OW  still  the  air,  how  still  the  stream ! 

The  elm-trees  hardly  breathe, 
And  breathlessly  the  waters  seem 
To  linger  underneath. 

Not  clearer  on  the  cloudless  air 

The  listening  tree-tops  lie, 
Than  on  the  unruffled  river  there 

That  seems  another  sky. 

And  through  the  branches  from  above, 
And  through  them  from  below, 

The  new  moon,  hovering  like  a  dove, 
Gleams  and  forgets  to  go. 


A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM. 

r  I  "'HE  hot,  unhappy  city 

Oppresses  me  all  day, 
But  with  the  stars  reviving 
My  spirit  slips  away. 

A  country  road  it  enters, 

And  follows  all  alone, 
Beside  the  scented  meadows 

That  were  but  newly  mown; 

Beside  the  streaming  corn-fields 
That  rustle  in  the  breeze, ' 

Beside  the  tangled  thickets 
Concealing  mysteries. 


14  A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM. 

And  here  and  there  it  crosses 
A  brook  that  sings  and  shines, 

Or  whispers  in  the  shadow 
Of  overhanging  vines. 

And  here  a  waveless  water 
It  smoothly  passes  by, 

With  silvery  silent  lilies 
Unshaded  from  the  sky. 

The  flower  of  the  elder-berry 
Perfumes  the  sunny  air, 

The  milk-white  honeysuckle's 
Delicious  scent  is  there  ; 

The  wild  wide-open  roses 
Half  hide  the  farmer's  wall, 

And  there  the  bees  are  humming 
And  there  the  robins  call ; 


A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM.  15 

• 

There  like  a  windy  blossom 

The  yellow-bird  goes  by, 
There  floats  in  dreamy  silence 

The  mystic  butterfly; 

There  like  a  gliding  shadow, 

The  squirrel  skims  the  rail, 
There  sounds  the  saucy  whistle 

Of  the  tantalizing  quail ; 

And  self-absorbed  the  crickets 

There,  everywhere  approve 
The  seeming-conscious  quiet 

Through  which  the  noises  move. 

Yet,  sweet  as  is  the  fragrance 
That  there  the  blossoms  yield, 

And  dear  as  are  the  noises 
From  thicket  and  from  field, 


16  A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM. 

At  times  another  odour 
Is  felt  obscurely  there, 

An  odour  and  a  murmur 
That  die  upon  the  air. 

i 
But  ever  as  they  vanish 

The  heart  begins  to  say, 
What  is  it  that  I  long  for, 

More  than  I  have  to-day  ? 

A  larger  space  above  me, 
A  larger  space  around, 

A  sense  of  deeper  silence, 
A  sense  of  fuller  sound. 

Enough,  thou  sheltered  valley, 
Of  sky-perplexing  trees, 

Of  mingling  lights  and  shadows, 
Of  dreams  and  reveries ; 


A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHTS  DREAM.  17 

The  road  goes  on  and  upward, 

And  I  go  up  and  on, 
And  reach  the  open  head-land 

That  loves  the  unshaded  sun. 

No  shadows  overcome  it, 

But  of  the  birds  that  range, 
And  of  the  clouds  forever 

That  wander  and  that  change. 

There  all  the  breezes  gather, 
There  all  the  winds  are  heard, 

There  with  a  sound  of  waters 
The  air  is  ever  stirred. 

The  sea's  incessant  waters, 
That  sky-ward  laugh  and  play, 

That  shore-ward  rolling  whiten 
And  scatter  into  spray, 


i8  A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM. 

The  hum  of  their  advancing 
The  thunder  of  their  fall, 

The  moan  of  their  recoiling 
I  hear,  I  see  them  all  : 

And  all  of  them  including, 
To  all  of  them  unknown, 

See  heaven's  unruffled  silence, 
High  over  and  alone. 


IN    SEPTEMBER. 
T7EATHERY  clouds  are  few  and  fair, 

r 

Thistle-down  is  on  the  air, 
Rippling  sunshine  on  the  lake. 
Wild  grapes  scent  the  sunny  brake, 
Wild  bees  murmuring  take  the  ear, 
Crickets  make  the  silence  dear ; 
Butterflies  float  in  a  dream, 
Over  all  the  swallows  gleam. 
Here  and  yonder,  high  and  low, 
Golden-rod  and  sunflowers  glow, 
Here  and  there  a  maple  flushes, 
Sumach  reddens,  woodbine  blushes, 
Purple  asters  bloom  and  thrive, — 
I  am  glad  to  be  alive  ! 


A    SUNSET    IN    NOVEMBER. 

r  I  "*HE  leaden  slowness  of  the  prostrate  clouds, 
The  .dark  pre-eminence  of  naked  boughs, 
The  blind  compulsion  of  the  uncertain  wind, 
The  helpless  rustling  of  the  withered  leaves, 
The  listless  movement  of  the  abandoned  waves, 
I  marked  them  all,  I  made  them  all  my  own, 
To  help  me  to  the  sunset  I  foresaw, 
And  longed  for  fiercely  that  November  day. 

It  came  at  last,  I  know  not  how  it  came, 
A  clouded  fire  showed  smouldering  in  the  west, 
Faded  and  seemed  extinguished.     Overhead 
The  massy  clouds,  like  giants  out  of  dreams 


A  SUNSET  IN  NOVEMBER.  21 

Uneasily  awaking,  rolled  apart, 
Closed,  wavered,  opened,  with  a  sudden  gleam 
Of  silvery  edges ;    and  then  all  was  changed. 
Upsprang   the   breeze,  the  waves,   the  branches 

sprang ; 

The  brown  leaves  quivered  and  went  by  like  birds ; 
The  smouldering  clouds  about  the  western  hills 
Upblown  rose  huddling,  and  let  see  the  sun — 
Red,  rayless,  half  consumed, — beyond  the  Earth 
Slow  drawing  backward  ;    while  around  his  place 
And  over  him  increasing,  the  new  light 
Burnt  red,  intense  and  glowing,  here  and  there 
Veiled  with  a  restless  vapour  that  arose 
Confused  and  formless,  like  a  fiery  smoke. 
Lower  he  sank ;    o'erhead  the  parted  clouds, 
Lightened  and  thinned  and  stretching  them   in 

flight, 
Flushed  and  grew  crimson  ;  while  beyond  the  lake 

Joyous  with  gold  and  purple,  and  beyond 
2 


22  A  SUNSET  IN  NOVEMBER. 

The  feathery  outlines  of  the  purpling  hills, 
The  open  west  'neath  mingling  green  and  blue 
Was  one  transparent  river  of  bright  gold 
That  northward  slowly  paling  many  a  mile, 
Round  crimson  islands  and  past  rosy  shores, 
Streamed  silent,  waveless,  to  where  side  by  side 
A  nestling  cluster  of  round  little  clouds 
Bloomed  opalescent  in  clear  amber  air. 


A    CLOUDY    DAY. 

A   LL  clay  the  sun  has  kept  himself  concealed, 

But  not  in  sullenness.     Look  overhead, 
How  beautiful  the  curtain  that  he  draws, 
'Twixt  heaven  and  earth  soft  floating  in  mid-air 
In  imperceptible  motion,  seeming, still ! 
Irregular,  innumerable  folds, 
With  shadowy  dimples  and  soft  gleaming  lines, 
Touched  with  a  fleeting  colour  that  endures 
Of  opalescent  tints  on  silvery  grey; 
Most  like  the  interior  loveliness  of  some 
Rare  shell  with  pearly  lining. 

I  watch  it  long : 

Its  many  mingling  hues  that  come  and  go, 
Its  mazy  lines  continually  changing, 


24  A  CLOUDY  DAY. 

Its  shadowy  hollows  that  keep  changing  too, 
Its  flowing  grace  and  its  superb  expanse, 
I  watch  it  long,  unasking  any  more  ; 
And  yet — 'tis  but  a  transitory  curtain, 
Drawn  by  the  sun  to  hide  him  for  a  day, 
Some  secret  gladness  of  his  own  concealing, 
Some  rarely  opening  inner  depth  of  Heaven, 
Wherein  unseen  he  glories,  safe  withdrawn, 
In  happy  god-like  loneliness  afar. 


BEFORE    THE    SNOW. 

A  SOFT    grey    sky,    marked    here    and 

there 

With  tangled  tracery  of  bare  boughs, 
A  little  far-off  fading  house, 
A  blurred  blank  mass  of  hills  that  wear 
A  thickening  veil  of  lifeless  air, 
Which  no  wind  comes  to  rouse. 

Insipid  silence  everywhere  ; 
The  waveless  waters  hardly  flow, 
In  silence  labouring  flies  the  crow, 
Without  a  shadow,  o'er  the  bare 
Deserted  meadows  that  prepare 
To  sleep  beneath  the  snow. 


A    SNOW    SHOWER    IN    APRIL. 

A   H,  how  much  greener  does  the  grass  appear, 
How  much  more  strong  and  constant  does 
it  show, 

Contrasting  with  this  transitory  snow, 
Untimely  and  yet  lovely!    Far  and  near, 
Light  lying  on  the  meadows,  it  seems  here 
Like  hoary  clover  ;    and  there,  on  the  low 
Slope   of  the   knoll,  white   strawberry   blossoms 

grow, 

And  daisies  yonder;  while, -(through  all  the  year 
Sight  longed  for  and  remembered)  pearly   clear 
Around  me  the  light  snow-flakes  falling  seem 
Like  cherry  blossoms,  that  down  eddying  slow, 
Some  warm  May  morning  when  no  breezes  blow, 
All  over  the  fresh  grass-plat  softly  gleam, 
And  like  the  snow-flakes  softly  disappear. 


AN    OLD    PLAY. 
I.  In    the    Street. 

T     IKE  a  breeze  from  a  garden, 
Made  sweet  with  the  scent 
O'  the  fresh  blooming  lilacs, 
She  came  and  she  went. 

Pure  spirit  and  vision, 
Felt  rather  than  known, 

Fain  would  I  have  held  her 
And  made  her  my  own  ; 

But  as  the  unconscious 
Breeze  blesses  and  goes 

So  went  she,  more  blessing 
And  blest  than  she  knows. 


28  AN  OLD  PLA  Y. 


II.  In    the    Garden. 

"\T  7 HEN  lilacs  were  in  blossom, 
And  all  the  air  was  sweet, 
I  saw  her  standing  tip-toe 
Upon  a  garden-seat. 

One  hand  drew  down  the  clusters, 

The  other  bent  a  spray, 
Held  it  a  little  minute, 

And  let  it  slip  away. 

Lilacs,  your  life  is  lengthened 
But  you've  missed  the  very  best, 

The  best  brief  life  of  lying 
And  dying  on  her  breast ! 


AN  OLD  PLA  y. 


III.  Till    Sunrise. 

A   WAY  to  her,  fresh  morning  breeze  ! 

Uplift  and  blow  aside 
Her  cloudy  curtain,  and  with  ease 
Approach  her  undenied. 

And  lightly  kiss  her  mouth  and  eyes ; 

And  lightly  lift  her  hair ; 
And  blow  about  her  where  she  lies 

This  scent  that  fills  the  air 

Of  apple-blossoms  sweet,  that  she 

May,  waking,  long  to  know 
What  newly  flowering  shrub  or  tree 

Sweetens  the  morning  so  ; 
2* 


30  AN  OLD  PL  A  Y. 

And  past  the  cloudy  curtain  there 
Lean  forth  perhaps  to  see, 

Sweet,  fresh  and  fair,  and  unaware 
Be  seen  herself  by  me. 


IV.   Till   Moonrise. 

'''I  ""IS  long,  long  after  sunset, 

And  cloudless  is  the  sky, 
Yet  strangely  faint  the  stars  are, 
And  strangely  faint  am  I. 

Behind  the  hiding  mountain 
They  know  the  moon  is  near  ; 

And  shining  at  her  window 
Soon  will  my  Love  appear  ! 


AN  OLD  PLAY.  31 

V.  By    the  Light    o'    the  Moon. 
boughs  that  bend  over, 


The  vines  that  aspire 
To  be  close  to  your  window 
Prevent  my  desire. 

Come  forth  from  them,  darling ! 

Enough  'tis  to  bear 
That  between  us  be  even 

Impalpable  air ! 


SONG. 

T     IKE  a  fettered  boat  that  pants  and  pulls, 

And  struggles  to  be  free, 
When  the  wind  is  up,  and  the  whirling  gulls 
Are  wild  with  ecstasy — 
Is  my  heart  apart  from  thee  ! 

Like  a  boat  that  leans,  that  leaps,  that  flies, 

That  sings  along  the  sea, 
With  a  sunny  shower  of  drops  that  rise 

And  fall  melodiously — 

Is  my  heart,  Sweetheart,  is  my  heart, 

Is  my  heart,  approaching  thee! 


LOVE'S     INCAPACITY. 

A    S  a  pale  cloud  at  morning,  when  the  light 
First  overcomes  it  from  the  unrisen  sun, 
Is  flushed  with  rosy  colour,  but  anon 
Grows  paler  yet  and  paler  as  it  feels 
The  illimitable  loveliness  expand 
Till  very  heaven  cannot  contain  it  all  ; — 
So  I  foresaw  the  sunrise  of  her  soul, 
So  I  looked  out  and  loved  her,  and  at  once 
Was  flushed  with  rosy  hopefulness  and  joy, 
Then  felt  her  beauty's  uncontrollable  increase, 
And  paler  grew  and  paler  with  despair. 


ON    THE    SHORE. 

T  TERE  many  a  time  she  must  have  walked, 
The  dull  sand  brightening  'neath  her  feet, 
The  cool  air  quivering  as  she  talked, 
Or  laughed,  or  warbled  sweet. 


The  shifting  sand  no  trace  of  her, 

No  .sound  the  wandering  wind  retains, 

But,  breaking  where  the  foot-prints  were, 
Loudly  the  sea  complains. 


A    HILL-TOP. 

T     ITTLE  more  than  a  rock  nearly  bare, 

Rough  with  lichens  grey-green,  and  a  line 
Of  pale  yellow  grass  here  and  there, 
A  few  daisies,  a  tree,  and  a  vine. 

But  the  woodbine's  aglow  and  astream 
Like  a  cloud  that  the  sunsetting  fires,  . 

And  star-like  the  still  daisies  gleam, 
And  flame-like  the  cedar  aspires ! 


A    CLIMBER. 

r  I  ^O  climb  and  climb  for  hours  and  hours, 

O'er  rocks  and  ice  and  snow, 
To  see  at  last  the  flower  of  flowers, 
Long  sought,  unseen  till  now, 

Bruised,  bleeding,  breathless  to  attain 

At  last  the  final  ledge, 
Lean  over,  look  and  see  it  plain, 

Just  under  the  rough  edge 

Of  that  ice-worn,  frost-splintered  rock, 

In  that  keen  upper  air, 
Where  never  shepherd  seeks  his  flock, 

A  lovely  wonder  there  ; 


A  CLIMBEK.  37 

To  gaze  at  it,  and  love  it  more 

And  more  the  more  'tis  seen, — 
Star-like,  but  blood-red  at  the  core 

With  cool  green  leaves  serene  ; — 

To  feel  its  fragrance  like  a  kiss 

Awake  and  take  the  heart, 
Its  motion  like  a  smile  dismiss 

And  keep  despair  apart. 

To  love  it,  long  for  it,  to  lean 

Far  and  yet  farther  still, 
With  trembling  fingers  touch  the  green 

And  trembling  leaves,  and  thrill, 

And  thrilling  reach  again,  and  fall 

Whirling  to  where  the  slow 
Cold  mockery  glacier  rivers  crawl 

And  waste  away  below, — 

100495 


38  A  CLIMBER. 

This  was  his  life,  this  was  his  fate, 

A  hard,  long,  lonely  climb, 
A  failure ; — but  he  stood  elate 
^    Once  in  the  air  sublime ! 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 


A  DRAMA  TIC  POEM. 


[/  hope  that  no  one  -will  mistake  this  little  il  Andromeda"  for  an 
attempt  to  imitate  a  Greek  tragedy.  The  resemblance  is  only  superfi 
cial,  and  it  is  very  superficial  indeed,  as  "  the  judicious"  if  any  such 
should  chance  to  look  into  it,  -will  see  at  once.  There  is  a  Chorus,  there 
is  dialogue  and  there  is  narrative — all  this  to  give  me  a  chance  to  tell 
the  story  in  a  mixed  form  of  lyric,  dramatic  and  descriptive  verse. 
But  all  this  (used  in  tlie  freest  way,  without  regard  to  any  of  the  pecu 
liarities  of  the  ancient  Chorus,  and  without  an  attempt  to  represent 
either  ancient  ways  of  life,  or  ancient  forms  of  art),  all  this  has  been  to 
me  only  as  so  much  outermost  shell,  into  which,  as  convenient  to  my  pur 
pose  I  have  poured  my  own  anachronistic  composition,  preferring  to 
try  the  experiment  of  filling  up  with  that  cloudy  mixture  to  making  be 
lieve,  after  laborious  reft/ting,  with  something  clearer  perhaps,  and 
perhaps  only  thinner. 

March,   1874.] 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

In  front  of  tlie  King's  palace  just' 'before  sunrise. 
EUDORA  and  a  Group  of  Girls. 

EUDORA. 

ALL'S  over  now,  and  all  but  us  are  gone. 
Yet  we  still  linger,  loth  to  go  or  stay, 
Shrinking  together,  shivering,  half-benumbed 
In  this  chill  atmosphere  of  sudden  grief, 
Like  sheep  that  huddle  for  a  little  warmth. 
But  let  us  go.  Nay,  wait,  here  comes  the  Queen. 

KASSIOPEIA. 

Girls,  for  I  cannot  rest  within  the  house, 
Have  ye  no  word  of  comfort  for  me  here  ? 

EUDORA. 

How  can  we  comfort  you,  unhappy  Queen, 
Ourselves  so  comfortless  ?  For  what  are  words, 


42  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

The  wisest,  could  we  speak  them,  but  a  new 
Insulting  torment  to  the  tortured  soul, 
Like  too  much  sunlight  to  the  wilting  flower  ? 
There  is  no  comfort,  unless  tears  avail 
And  vain  complainings  to  unload  the  heart. 

KASSIOPEIA. 
Whom  I  should  comfort,  who  should   comfort 

me, 

The  king,  indoors,  sits  like  a  man  of  stone, 
Unmoving,  speechless,  with  wide-open  eyes, 
Not  down-cast,  nor  uplifted  nor  bedimmed, 
But  straight  before  him  staring  hard  and  dry  j 
Nor  dare  I  speak  to  him,  for  even  now, 
Laying  my  hand  upon  him  where  he  sat 
Low  on  the  couch,  he  shrank  as  if  from  fire, 
And  when  (the  old    word  unwittingly   slipped 

forth)      . 
And  when  I  called  him  Father,  gave  a  laugh  ! 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  43 


THE  CHORUS. 
WE  do  not  weep  to  see 
The  sun  forsake  the  sky  ; 
The  waning  moonlight  we 
Can  watch  with  tearless  eye  ; 
The  birds,  another  home 
Desiring,  fly  afar  ; 
We  let  them  go  and  come, 
We  know  well  where  they  are  : 

We  know  they  will  return 
Nor  keep  too  long  away, 
The  dearer  that  we  yearn 
To  have  them  ere  we  may, 
The  dearer  that  they  are 
So  loth  to  tarry  long, 
Sun,  moon  and  every  star 
And  every  flower  and  song. 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

But  you,  sun  like  that  warmed 
And  filled  our  day  with  light ; 
Moonlike  that  cheered  and  charmed 
And  glorified  our  night ; 
Bird-like  that  made  us  blest 
With  every  happy  tone ; 
Flower-like  the  loveliest 
And  sweetest  ever  known  ; 


But  you,  withdrawn  afar 
From  all  you  loved  before, 
We  know  not  where  you  are, 
Shall  see  you  never  more  ; 
Shall  nor  by  night  nor  day, 
Nor  soon  nor  later  see, 
Gone  the  well-trodden  way 
To  cold  obscurity. 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  45 

There  is  no  word  to  say, 
Alas  !  and  nought  to  do, 
We  know  not  what  to  pray 
Nor  whom  to  pray  it  to, 
We  can  but  weep  as  yet, 
Distrusting  every  cure, 
Unwilling  to  forget, 
Unable  to  endure. 


(.Entering  as  the  song  ceases.) 

But  what  is  it  you  weep  for  or  for  whom  ? 
Vague  rumors  of  strange  troubles  bring  me 

here 

With  men-at-arms,  attended,  if  perchance 
I  may  be  yet  of  service  ;  but  even  now 
Nothing  for  certain  do  I  know  of  all 
The  rumoured  evils  that  ye  fear  or  bear. 

KASSIOPEIA. 

Nothing  is  now  to  fear,  too  much  to  bear. 
3 


46  ANDROMEDA'S    ESCAPE. 

O,  Phineus,  friend,  I  have  no  daughter  now, 
Andromeda  is  dead ! 

PHINEUS. 

Impossible  ! 

KASSIOPEIA. 

'Tis  the  impossible  that  comes  to  pass. 
Do  mothers  kill  the  children  whom  they  love 
Because  they  love  them  ?  Or,  is  the  reward 
Of  lovely  innocence  a  shameless  death  ? 

PHINEUS. 

She  tortures  me  with  riddles.      Would  to  God 
Some  one  would   tell   me   what  she  means   by 
this! 

KASSIOPEIA. 

And  there  comes  one  can  tell  you ;  ask  of  him, 
He  will  not  falter,  telling  you  the  tale. 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  47 

But  as  for  me,  nought  is  there  in  the  earth 
More  hateful  to  me  than  to  see  his  face, 
Unless  indeed  it  were  to  hear  his  voice. 

(As  she  goes,  Main's,  the  High  Priest,  enters?) 

PHINEUS. 

You  know  me,  Moiris,  I  have  heard  strange  tales 
Of  sudden  sorrow  come  upon  this  house. 
Tell  me  the  truth,  and  let  me  know  the  worst. 

MOIRIS. 

Not  willingly,  for  I,  too,  have  a  heart, 
Aye,  and  have  learned  by  proof  as  well  as  proverb, 
That  oft  the  unhappy  bearer  of  ill  news, 
Though  innocent,  to  him  who  hears  them  seems 
A  constant  part,  if  not  indeed  a  cause 
Of  all  the  affliction  that  his  words  convey. 
Unjust,  but  justice  is  what  men  expect ! 

PHINEUS. 
I  understand  you  ;  but  the  Queen  is  gone. 


48  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

Speak,  for  I  grow  impatient  of  suspense, 
And  haply  yet  there  may  be  found  a  cure, 
Or  if  no  cure,  the  comfort  of  revenge. 

MOIRIS. 

Cure  there  is  none,  but  patiently  to  bear. 
And  for  revenge,  'tis  with  a  mighty  God 
And  not  with  mortals  you  will  have  to  deal. 

PHINEUS. 
Be  plain,  be  plain  ! 

MOIRIS. 

Something  you  must  have  heard 
Of  all  we  have  suffered  from  a  nameless  beast, 
Sent  us  for  punishment,  that  from  the  sea 
Comes  inland  daily  to  lay  waste  and  slay : — 
According  to  an  oracle's  command, 
To  save  a  wretched  people  from  despair, 
Andromeda,  our  princess,  to  the  beast 
Is  this  day  made  an  offering,  one  for  all. 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  49      . 

PHINEUS. 
She  is  dead  then  ?     Or  is  it  still  to  do  ? 

MQIRIS. 

This  morn  ere  sunrise  taking  her  away, 
My  priests  and  I,  we  brought  her  to  the  shore, 
Submissive,  uncomplaining,  strangely  calm  ; 
There,  not  an  hour  ago,  hard  by  the  place 
Where  first  the  monster  rises  every  day, 
Fast  bound  to  a  rock  we  left  her  in  the  sea, 
Alive  yet  and  alone. 


Alive,  alone 

And  there  she  may  be  yet,  alive,  alone, 
Half  dead  with  terror  and  unfriendly  grief  ! 

MOIRIS. 
'Twas  so  commanded  by  the  oracle. 


5o  ANDROMEDA'S    ESCAPE. 

PHINEUS. 

What  set  you  on  to  ask  the  oracle  ? 
What  cause  for  so  great  anger,  whose  the  blame  ? 

MOIRIS. 

Increasing  ravage  of  our  flocks  and  fields, 
Slaughter  of  folk,  and  terror,  and  the  wrath 
Of  terror  growing  frantic,  and  the  tears 
And  prayers  of  helpless  sorrow  set  us  on. 
The  Queen's  unheard-of  folly  was  the  cause  ; 
Who,  finding  too  much  happiness  too  flat, 
Must  spice  it  with  impiety,  forsooth  ! 
Likening  Andromeda — not  her's  the  fault — 
To  deathless  Goddesses ;  nay,  more  than  that 
(Unreasoning  love  is  deadlier  oft  than  hate), 
Boasting  that  altars  should  be  built  to  her, 
And  Sacrifice  be  done,  and  worship  paid. 
And  now,  now,  what  a  sacrifice  is  done  ! 

PHINEUS. 

The  Queen's  words  had  a  meaning  then,  tho'  wild  ; 
And  yet  the  innocent  must  suffer  all ! 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  51 

MOIRIS. 

Not  all,  not  all ;  and  surely  not  the  worst. 
No  sense  of  guiltiness  increased  her  pain, 
And  all  her  suffering,  and  this  she  knew, 
Was  for  the  advantage  of  the  ones  she  loved. 

PHINEUS. 

Cold  comfort  there  !     But  still  I  have  to  hear 
What  happened  to  the  people  and  the  land. 

MOIRIS. 

You  know  the  road  that  eastward  for  a  mile 
Goes  hence  declining  gently  to  the  shore ; 
On  either  side  of  it  what  fields  of  grain, 
What  vines  all  orderly,  row  after  row, 
What  pastures  crowded  with  fair  flocks  and  herds, 
What  orchards,  and  what  meadow-lands  afar, 
Stretch  right  and  left  to  meet  the  including  sky, 
The  comfortable  houses  and  the  barns 
With  noise  of  children  and  with  noise  of  fowls, 


S2  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

And  the  trim  gardens  near  them  with  their  flow 
ers  ; — 

You  have  all  these,  have  more  than  once,  per 
haps, 

Been  filled  with  pleasure  at  the  happy  sight ; — 
Go  now  and  see  them  !  where  the  heavy  grain 
Reeled  in  the  breeze  or  slumbered  in  the  sun, 
Undreaming  of  the  sickle  ;  where  the  fruit 
Golden  and  crimson  'mid  the  dark  green  leaves 
Of  topmost  bough  and  lowest  shone  and  swung, 
Or  gleamed  unhurt  among  the  dewy  grass 
Of  many  an  orchard :  where  the  wrinkled  sheep 
Cropped  audibly  their  pasture  ;  where  the  cows, 
Mechanically  working  tireless  jaws, 
Lay  or  stood  drowsing ;  where  the  children  played 
I'  the  meadow  with  the  daisies,  or  behind 
The  leaning  oxen  in  the  clumsy  cart 
Went  jolting  with  the  harvesters  afield  ; 
Where  wife  or  daughter  now  the  farmer's  meal, 
Fresh  gathered  from  the  garden,  brought  in-doors, 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  53 

And  now  a  handful  of  selected  flowers — 
O,  why  do  I  so  dwell  upon  it  all  ? — 
When  not  ten  days  ago  whoever  passed 
Might  gladden  looking  at  such  sights  as  these, 
Whoever  passes  sees  a  desert  now. 
For  not  a  day  and  night  were  passed  away 
Since  the  vain  Queen's  defiance,  when  there  came 
Shaming  the  light  that  let  the  thing  be  seen, 
A  grisly  horror  from  the  shuddering  sea. 
Utterly  silent,  with  a  sleepy  eye, 
Loathsome  to  fascination,  slow  it  crawled 
To  where  a  group  of  children  on  the  shore 
Huddling  together  stood  without  a  cry 
Breathlessly  staring — And  at  night  it  came, 
Trampling,  defiling,  beating  down  the  grain, 
Uprooting  shade  and  fruit-trees,  tearing  vines, 
Upturning  gardens,  poisoning  springs  and  streams, 
Devouring  cattle,  rending  them  piece-meal, 
Strewing  their  carcases  about  the  fields — 

And  the  next  day  it  came,  and  of  the  three 
'    3* 


54  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

Fishers  that  saw  it  there  is  one  alive. 

And    the    next   night    and    the    next    day  and 

night ; 

And  so  for  six  days,  day  and  night  it  came 
As  punctual  as  the  sunrise  and  the  stars, 
As  tireless  as  the  waters  of  the  sea, 
And  deadlier  than  the  tempest.     Till  at  last, 
The  people,  first  half  stupefied,  and  then 
Heroically  patient,  when  they  found 
No  help  in  patience,  and  no  help  in  arms, 
(What  few  among  the  soldiers  dared  affront 
The  invulnerable  monster,  arms  and  all, 
Were  torn  and  trampled  shapeless  in  an  hour,) 
Grew  clamorous  and  then  riotous  in  their  pain, 
With  proclamation  of  a  new-found  law. 
Who  can  not  serve  the  people  cannot  rule  ! 

PHINEUS. 
Insolent  wretches !  and  what  did  the  King  ? 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE.      .        55 

MOIRIS. 

He  ruled  his  people ;  ruled  them  like  a  King, 
Serving  and  saving  them.  He  gave  his  word 
That  he  would  serve  and  save  them,  gave  them 

hope 

That  he  could  serve  and  save  them ;  and  so  stilled 
And  taught  their  passion  patience,  calmed  their 

fear, 

And  gave  them  faith  and  courage,  that  if  trust 
And  gratitude  and  reverence  could  avail 
To  help  him  now,  there  were  no  need  to  grieve. 

PHINEUS. 
Aye,  if  they  could — 

MOIRIS. 

And  so  they  can  in  time. 

PHINEUS. 

In  time,  in  time !  In  time  is  now ;  and  now, 
Now  what  do  they  avail  ?    Old  man,  you  talk. 
Their  gratitude,  their  reverence,  their  trust ! 


56  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

Their  selfishness,  their  cowardice — Good  God  ! 
To  think  that  a  great  King  should  come  to  this, 
And  a  priest  praise  him  for  it !    Oracle  ! 
Why  ask  the  oracle  ?  or  having  asked, 
Who  ever  knew  an  oracle  so  dear 
Interpretation  could  not  cloud  its  sense  ? 
What  were  the  words  of  this  ? 

MOIRIS. 

The  words  were  these 
To  save  his  land  and  people,  let  the  King 
Give  up  the  very  dearest  thing  he  has, 
One  life  for  many,  to  be  bound  and  left 
Alone  upon  the  sea-shore,  to  wait  there 
The  doom  appointed,  between  dawn  and  day. 

PHINEUS. 

Could  that  not  be  evaded  ?  Why  not  call 
The  Queen  his  dearest,  and  let  her  atone 
Her  own  destructive  folly  ? 


ANDROMEDA'S    ESCAPE  57 

MOIRIS. 

So  the  Queen 
Wished  to  interpret  it. 

PHINEUS. 

But  you  perhaps — 

MOIRIS. 

The  King  bade  read  it  otherwise,  and  said, 
His  wish  was  not  to  evade  but  to  fulfil, 
His  duty  being  not  to  cheat  but  save  ? 

PHINEUS. 

To  save,  to  save — why  yes  !  but  whom  to  save  ? 
Churls  and  their  cattle  I  suppose.     'Tis  strange  ! 
But  even  then,  say  he  had  sent  away 
The  Princess  from  the  palace,  out  of  reach, 
Then  he  would  not  have  had  her — nay  by  Heaven, 
Not  once  nor  twice  but  many  times  the  Queen, 
Here  in  the  palace,  promised  her  to  me, 


S8  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

And  she  was  mine  then  surely,  in  a  sense, — 
Had  I  but  known,  they  should  have  let  me  know, 
They  did  me  wrong  to  act  before  I  came. 
Had  I  been  here  but  yesterday,  last  night, 
I  would  have  saved  her  spite  of  all ;  at  least 
I  could  have  carried  her  away  by  force — 
Now  'tis  too  late. 

MOIRIS  (contemptuously  at  first.} 

Nay,  why  is  it  too  late  ? 
How  do  you  know  it  is  too  late — for  you  ! 
She  still  was  living  when  we  left  her  there, 
Go  take  her  now  by  force  ! 

Ah !  what  a  thought 

Strikes  me  and  shakes  me  with  a  wild  desire ! 
O,  Phineus,  Girls,  I  know  not  what  I  think ! 
What  if  it  were  enough  to  leave  her  there, 
Fulfilling  just  the  oracle's  command, 
No  less,  no  more  ?  and  what  if  one  should  now, 
Aye,  even  now  be  not  too  late  ?     Prince,  Prince, 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  59 

You  teach  me  to  be  subtle,  think  of  it ! 
Is  not  the  oracle's  command  obeyed, 
Even  to  the  very  letter,  is  it  not  ? 
Is  not  our  duty  done  then  to  the  full  ? 
Have  we  not  made  the  sacrifice  complete, 
Given  up  the  very  dearest  thing  we  had, 
Bound  her  and  left  her  ?     Can  it  be  that  this, 
May  it  not  be  that  this  shall  be  enough, 
Enough  obedience  to  the  heavenly  will, 
Enough  of  punishment,  enough  of  wrath  ? 
And  now  if  one  could  save  her,  one  like  you, 
Aye,  one  like  you.     I  think  I  see  it  clear — 
One  not  an  inmate  of  the  sinful  house, 
Not  even  a  dweller  in  the  afflicted  land, 
One  not  included  in  the  general  curse, 
Nor  in  the  prohibition  that  compelled 
Father,  and  mother  and  all  other  friends. 
Ah  !  not  to  lose  her,  to  abandon  her ! 
You  hesitate,  you  are  thinking  of  it,  think  ! 


60  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

You  have  your  men-at-arms  ;  'twas  not  for  us, 
The  punished,  to  prevail  against  the  beast ; 
But  you,  the  gods,  made  placable  at  last, 
May  let  destroy  the  monster,  aye,  and  save, 
And  save  Andromeda  !     What  say  you,  Prince, 
Am  I  too  wild  in  this,  or  am  I  right  ? 

PHINEUS. 

You  are  late,  old  man.     With  such  a  subtle  mind, 
You  might  have  saved  her  yesterday ;  but  now, 
Unless  your  subtlety  can  raise  the  dead, 
What  good  is  it  to  talk  of  rescue  now  ? 
This  is  the  imagination  of  remorse, 
Too  late  repenting  its  accursed  deed, 
That  clings  with  desperate  longing  to  Perhaps. 
Too  late,  I  say,  you  know  it  is  too  late. 
It  is  too  late,  she  must  be  dead,  she  is  ! 
Why  then  should  I  expose  my  men,  my  friends, 
To  this  sea-monster  which  yourself  admit 
The  king's  own  men-at-arms  dare  not  oppose  ? 


ANDROMEDA'S    ESCAPE.  61 

Is  it  less  strong  to-day  than  yesterday, 
Less  fierce,  less  terrible,  less  sent  from  God? 
I  know  not  what  you  want  with  me,  old  man, 
You  never  loved  me — is  there  need,  perhaps, 
Of  other  victims,  that  you  fain  would  send 
Me  to  a  combat  that  the  rest  avoid, 
Me  to  a  rescue  that  the  gods  forbade  ? 
Shall  I  go  anger  them  once  more,  once  more 
Bring  punishment  upon  you  worse  than  this? 
And  yet,  O  yet,  if  'twere  not — but  it  is ! 
Were  it  not  merely  madness — would  I  not — 
You  know  I  would,  though  I  should  go  alone. 

MOIRIS. 
'Twas  your  own  question, — and  your  own  reply. 

PHINEUS. 
I  have  stayed  here  too  long  talking.     Tell  me 

girls, 

Is  not  the  King  within  ?     Did  not  the  Queen 
Go  to  him  when  she  left  us  ?     (Goes  in.) 


62  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

MOIRIS. 

Is  it  SO  ? 

Is  this  the  prince  that  prated  of  revenge  ? 
Or  if  no  cure  the  comfort  of  revenge  ? 
Girls,  for  you  heard  me,  did  I  seem  to  you 
To  speak  things  merely  foolish  ?     O,  I  thought 
To  move  him  as  the  rising  breezes  move 
The  unfettered  boat  that  leans,  and  is  away. 

EUDORA. 

Not  foolish  certainly,  but  hard  to  judge. 
For  while  you  yet  were  speaking  I  believed, 
But  now,  like  an  unwilling  flag  that  late 
Straight  streaming  quivered  like  a  windy  flame, 
I  sink,  I  flutter  idly  to  and  fro, 
Now    this    way  and    now   that    way  swings    my 

thought, 
But  settling  slowly  to  a  calm  despair. 

MOIRIS. 
And  my  hope  sinks  ;  but,  like  the  whirling  ball 


ANDROMEDA'S    ESCAPE.  63 

On  yonder  springing  water-jet  that  plays, 
Thrown  off  and  downcast,  it  is  restless  still, 
And  ever  struggling  upward  climbs  and  falls, 
Springs,  slips  and  drops  and  wavers,  and   again 
Upspringing  bird-like  no  one  can  tell  how, 
Look !  hovers  trembling,  on  the  very  point ! 
I  take  it  for  an  omen !     Yes — and  yet — 
O,  that  this  prince  were  but  a  prince  indeed ! 
But    even    the    gods    themselves  work  but  with 

means, 
And  doubting  him  who  seemed  the  heaven-sent 

means, 

I  doubt  myself,  whom  else  I  would  affirm 
To  have  been  undoubtedly  inspired  of  God. 
But  I  will  follow  him,  will  once  again, 
And  ah  !  less  passionately  put  my  case, 
More  clearly  therefore,  and  perhaps  prevail. 
I  wronged    him   doubtless    and    I    wronged    my 

cause, 


64  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

No  faith   inspiring  because  wanting  faith. 
Still,  still    I    think  that  she  may  yet    be    saved. 

(Goes  in.) 

THE  CHORUS. 
Is  this  the  man  we  idly  thought 

so  cold  and  hard  before  ? 
Surely  his  love  is  more  than  ours 

even  as  his  hope  is  more. 
Yet  what  avails,  it  more  than  ours, 

whose  weakness  we  deplore  ? 

And  yet  strange  stories  have  been  told, 

aye,  even  in  our  days, 
Of  dreadful  death  beyond  all  hope 

escaped  in  wondrous  ways. 
One  tale,  indeed,  how  many  a  time, 

against  my  mother's  knee 
Well  nestling  have  I  begged  to  hear, 

the  tale  of  Danae! 


ANDROMEDA'S    ESCAPE.  65 

The  beautiful,  the  motherless, 

the  daughter  of  a  king, 

Who  in  her  father's  eyes  became 
as  an  accursed  thing. 

For  having  heard  it  prophesied 

that  by  his  daughter's  son 
Should  come  his  dreaded  death  to  him 

in  some  strange    way  unknown  ; 
With  that  remorseless  cruelty — 

which  only  comes  of  fear, 
As  soon  as  e'er  her  boy  was  born, 

his  only  daughter  dear 
He  set  adrift, — her  child  and  her, — 

a  child  herself  was  she, 
To  drown  or  starve  or  die  of  grief 

upon  the  homeless  sea. 

But  gently  as  its  mother's  arms 

upbore  the  helpless  child, 


66  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

As  gently  was  her  boat  upborne 

by  waters  strangely  mild, 
And  gentle  as  herself  the  winds 

were  round  her  night  and  day, 
Still  wafting  her  as  in  a  dream 

along  the  appointed  way, 
Till  to  a  glistening  shore  she  came, 

edged  with  a  lace-like  foam, 
And  in  sea-girt  Seriphos  found 

a  refuge  and  a  home. 

There  many  a  year  she  lived  and  there 

still  lives,  'tis  said,  to-day, 
Well  loved  and  loving  with  her  boy, 

of  whom  the  travellers  say 
That  there  is  none  so  beautiful, 

so  hero-like  as  he, 
As  he  whose  early,  awful  death 

seemed  once  a  certainty: 
And,  ah !  would  God,  Andromeda  ! 

lost  one  for  whom  we  wail, 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  67 

That  many  a  child  might  hear  of  you 
hereafter  such  a  tale  ! 

Thus,  as  a  ship-wrecked  man,  escaped 
a  moment  to  the  shore, 

Hurled  thither  by  the  very  waves 
that  baffled  him  before, 

Half-drowned  and  fainting  and  afraid, 
can  only  clutch  the  sand, 

And  lie  flat  on  his  face  and  cling 

and  cling  with  foot  and  hand, 

\ 

For  fear  the  waters'  backward  rush, 

if  he  attempt  to  crawl, 
May  tear  him  off  and  bear  him  back 

and  drown  him  after  all ; — 
Thus  we,  a  moment  lifted  up 

from  midst  the  bitter  sea 
Of  helpless  grief  and  hurled  on  hope, 

cling  to  it  doubtfully, 
Expecting  when  the  refluent  wave 

shall,  with  a  grating  roar, 


68  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

Like  pebbles  whirl  us  down  the.  slope 
of  that  unsettled  shore, 

And  sea-ward  sweeping  us  afar, 

o'erwhelm  and  sink  us  there, 

With  all  the  weight  of  all  the  waves 
of  desolate  despair! 

MOIRIS   (Returning). 

It  needed  a  rude  shock  to  waken  me  ; 
But  I  have  had  it :   I  shall  dream  no  more. 


THE  CHORUS. 

Tis  hard,  'tis  hard,  it  is  too  hard  to  bear 
That  love  should  be  so  helpless :  it  can  bleed 
To  see  the  loved  one  suffer,  it  can  burn 
Itself  to  suffer  in  the  loved  one's  place, 
Can  feel  it  shameful  to  be  free  from  pain, 
Can  long  to  die  to  save  her  from  a  pang, 
Can  do  all  this,  and  this  is  all  it  can. — 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  69 

EUDORA. 

But  who  is  this  that  panting  and  aflame, 
Comes  stumbling  and  yet  running  up  the  walk  ? 

THE  MESSENGER. 

If  I  could  see  him  —  can  I  see  the  King? 
Strange  things  have  happened,  I  have  .news  to  tell. 

MOIRIS. 
What  kind  of  news  ?  nay,  there  can  be  but  one. 

EUDORA. 

Are  you  so  ignorant  then  of  all  things  here 
That  you  can  hope  to  see  the  King  to-day  ? 
Ah  !  and  yet  there  he  comes. 


(.Coming  from  the  palace.) 

Still  with  us,  girls  ? 
Moiris,  I  wish  to  talk  with  you.     Who's  this  ? 

MOIRIS. 

A  man  who  brings  you  news,  he  says. 
4 


70  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

KEPHEUS. 

Ah,  news. 

The  world  goes  on,  things  happen,  there  is  news  ! 
Well  then,  whence  came  you,  and  what  is  your 
news  ? 

THE  MESSENGER. 

Straight  from  the  sea-shore  I  ran  hither,  sire, 
To  tell  you  that  the  Princess — 

MOIRIS. 

Fool !  be  still ! 

KEPHEUS. 

Your  shoulder  for  a  moment,  Moiris.     Strange  ! 
I  thought  I  had  been  dipped  so  deep  in  grief 
Nothing  could  hurt  me. 

What  you  mean  to  say, 
Is  that  the  Princess  certainly  is  dead. 
Thanks,  'twas  strange  news  to  run  with,  though 
the  intent — 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  71 

I  think  I  know  you !  are  not  you  that  one 
Of  the  three  fisher-brothers  that  escaped  ? 
I  see  it  now  ;  Moiris,  you  understand, 
Doubtless  the  shock  of  it  has  turned  his  brain. 
Let  him  be  cared  for  kindly.     Peasant,  King  ! 
Ah  God  !  how  little  difference  after  all 
Is  there  between  the  peasant  and  the  King  ! 

THE  MESSENGER. 

Nay,  sire  ;  but  hear  me  for  a  moment,  sire  ! 
Not  dead  I  saw  the  Princess,  but  alive, 
I  saw  her  living  and  the  beast  is  dead. 

KEPHEUS. 
By  Heavens,  this  is  too  much  ! 

MOIRIS. 

Nay,  hear  him,  sire  ! 

This  is  not  madness  but  the  truth  I  think, 
The  very  truth  which  I  so  dimly  saw, 
And  could  not  prove  and  could  not  disbelieve. 


72  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

KEPHEUS. 
Well  well,  tell  out  your  story. 

THE  MESSENGER. 

When  the  priests 

Went  down  this  morning  early  to  the  shore 
I  followed  them,  in  hopes  that  thus  I  might 
Go  and  come  safely  from  the  fishing-place, 
Where  -many  things  were  left  that  dreadful  day, 
Mine  and  my  brothers',  which,  for  I  am    poor, 
I  needed  sorely  and  thought  worth  the  risk. 
I  found  them  all,  just  as  we  left  them  there, 
Nets,  lines  and  tools,  and  even  the  skiff  unhurt, 
Though  only  tethered  to  a  spike  i'  the  sand  ; 
A  little  chafed  she  was,  but  nothing  much, 
And  not  a  thole-pin  broken,  and  both  oars 
Safe  where  we  left  them — I  was  glad  enough, 
And  got  all   snug   as   quickly  as  I  could, 
And  then  was  thinking  whether  'twould  be  safe 
To  take   the    boat  round  by  the    point  or  not, 


ANDROMEDA'S    ESCAPE.  73 

Or  whether  I  had  better  draw  her  up 
And  leave  her  on  the  sand,  and  go  afoot 
After  the  priests,  with  what   I   needed  most 
Slung  in  a   bundle — I  was   thinking  this, 
When  on  a  sudden  the  slow  rippling   sea, 
Till  now  smooth  as   a  meadow   and  as  still, 
Began  to  hiss  and  murmur  on  the  sand, 
And  break  and  foam  and  writhe  against  the  rocks, 
And  gnash  white  teeth  abroad  ;  the  while  a  wind 
Blew  cold  from  the  eastward,  where    a   flock   of 

clouds 

Showed  red  as  blood.     I  shivered  and  stood  still 
And    looked    round  fearfully ;    the   priests  were 

gone; 

The  grey  gulls  silently  flew  round  and  round ; 
The  white  robe  of  the  Princess  'gainst  the  rock 
Looked  cold  and  awful ;  and  then  all  at  once 
Was  splendid,  dazzling,  like  a  cloud  that  floats 
Close  to  the  sun  ;  and  whether  it  was  that, 


74  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE, 

Or  whether  'twas  the  flashing  of  the  waves 
Beneath  the  sudden  sunrise  made  me  wink 
I  know  not,  but  when  next  I  looked  I  saw 
Beside  the  Princess  a  young  god  perhaps  ; 
With  hair  like  sun-beams  blowing  from  his  face, 
Flushed  like  a  runner's  and  with  angry  eyes  ; 
And  'in  his  hand  a  sword  which,  as  he  stooped 
To  something  hideous  in  the  curdling  foam, 
He  sent  down  flaming,  and  drew  back  bedimmed. 
And  in  a  minute  all  about  the  rock 
The  beaten  waters  were  a  bloody  froth, 
In    which    the     monster    raging,    thrashed    and 

screamed, 

Then  suddenly  leapt  clawing,  with  a  roar, 
Clean  out  of  water,  and  down  plunging  dead 
Dashed  spray  like  hail-stones,  and  uphove  the  sea, 
All  this  I  saw  and  knew  not  if  I  saw 
Or  dreamed  it  rather ;  and  I  saw  him  loose 
The  fetters  from  the  Princess,  and  half  lift, 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  75 

Half  lead  her,  blushing,  from  the  rock  to  shore. 
So  glad  he  was,  with  such  a  joyous  smile ! 
Not  when  so  terribly  he  whirled  his  sword 
Seemed  he  more  god-like — But  he  bade  me  run 
Hither  to  tell  you  he  would  soon  be  here, 
He  and  the  Princess — 

KEPHEUS. 

But  the  people,  ah ! 

MOIRIS. 

Yes,  and  the  people  !     And  the  Princess,  both  ! 
Thus  is  the  oracle  both  ways  fulfilled. 
Remember,  sire,  it  did  not  ask  her  death, 
As  in  our  ignorant  sorrow  we  supposed. 

KEPHEUS. 
O  Kassiopeia  !     Come  with  me ; — and  you. 

,  (  They  go  in  together?) 


76  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

THE  CHORUS. 

Tis  he  that  is  dead,  that  is  dead  ! 
He  is  dead,  it  is  he  that  is  dead, 
And  his  is  the  blood  on  the  wave, 
On  the  wave  that  is  red  where  he  lies, 
Where  he  lies,  where  he  moves,  when  he  moves, 
Where  he  moves  when  he  moves  in  his  blood, 
Where  he  moves  at  the  will  of  the  waves, 
At  the  will  of  the  winds  and  the  waves ! 


And  the  horrible  eye-lids  are  closed, 
And  the  horrible  eyes  are  concealed, 
And  cold  are  the  nostrils  that  flamed; 
And  set  are  the  jaws  that  devoured ; 
And  quenched  is  the  poisonous  breath  ; 
And  the  terrible  trampling  feet, 
They  move  at  the  will  of  the  waves, 
At  the  will  of  the  winds  and  the  waves ! 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  77 

But  you,  who  were  dead  are  alive ! 

But  you,  we  shall  see  you  again ! 

Bright  eyes  that  we  thought  were  gone  out, 

Sweet  voice  that  we  thought  was  made  mute, 

Warm  heart  that  we  fancied  was  cold, 

Dear  love  that  we  thought  we  had  lost, 

We  shall  see  you  and  hear  you  again, 

We  shall  have  you  once  more  in  our  arms ! 

And  you,  unexpected  desire  ! 
O  you,  with  delivering  sword, 
Who  sprang  to  the  maiden  to  save, 
Who  stooped  to  the  monster  to  slay ! 
O  you,  whether  Hero  or  God, 
To  the  gods  you  are  certainly  dear, 
As  to  us  you  are  dear,  and  to  her 
Whom  we  pray  you  to  hasten  to  bring! 

Yea,  hasten,  O  hasten,  for  now, 

Even  now  in  the  midst  of  our  joy, 
4* 


78  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

We  are  tortured  with  doubt  and  with  fear; 
As  a  mother  that  over  the  bed 
Of  her  boy  that  they  brought  her  for  drowned, 
Hangs  trembling,  and  dare  not  believe 
When  she  sees,  when  she  doubts  if  she  sees 
That  he  moves,  that  he  opens  his  eyes. 

(Enter  Perseus  and  A  ndromeda,  A  ndromeda  talking  as  they  come.) 

ANDROMEDA. 

Look,  Perseus,  there's  my  rose-tree,  still  in  bloom 
And  there's  my  elm-tree,  like  a  lily-flower, 
They  planted  it  for  me  when  I  was  born ; 
And  the  empty  bird's-nest  in  its  branches — O 
Nothing  is  changed, — how  natural  it  seems  ! 
And  there's  Eudora,  and  the  girls, — Ah  girls, 
I  thought  I  never  should  have  seen  you  more  ! 
O  those  black  dresses ! — 

(Seeing  the  King  -who  appears  in  the  door-way!)    Father  ! 

KEPHEUS. 

(Taking  her  in  his  arms  as  she  runs  forward.)    Andromeda  ! 

(  They  go  in  together!) 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  79 

EUDORA. 

We  know  your  name  is  Perseus,  and  we  know 
That  but  for  you  we  never  more  had  heard 
The  happy  voice  that  named  you.  But  much  more 
We  long  to  have  you  tell  us,  if  you  will. 
I  am  a  cousin  of  Andromeda's, 
And  we  are  all  her  playmates,  schoolmates,  friends. 

PERSEUS. 

Yes,  I  am  Perseus  ;  and  though  not  by  name 
Yet  you  have  heard  of  me  before,  I  think. 
Andromeda, — the  Princess,  knew  me  too. 
The  son  of  Danae  who  far  from  home 
Longs  in  Seriphos  for  her  native  land, 
Which  she  shall  see,  which  that  she   soon   may 

see 

Is  why  I  left  her  and  why  I  am  here. 
For  not  alone,  O  maidens,  in  this  land 
Is  sorrow  an  inevitable  guest, 
Against  whose  entrance  there  is  no  defence 


8o  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

Of  goodness  or  of  beauty  or  of  power, — 

Else  had  I  not  been  with  you  here  to-day. 

Else  had  I  never  known  you,  never  known 

Andromeda  perhaps, — Tis  wonderful. 

For  see  how  strangely  it  has  come  about. 

My  mother,  Danae,  as  you  have  heard, 

Came  to  Seriphos,  and  there  many  a  year 

Lived  not  unhappy — ,  for  she  had  at  least 

The  daily  happiness  a  mother  feels 

In  watching  over  the  young  helpless  life 

Whose  flattering  weakness  is  a  source  of  strength 

In  loneliness,  in  sorrow,  and  in  doubt, 

Of  strength  to  bear,  to  hope,  too,  and  enjoy. 

And  I  was  happy,  happier  than  I  knew, 

As  year  by  year  I  grew  in  strength  and  height, 

And  whom  I  loved  as  mother  soon  began 

To  love  as  sister  also.     So  we  lived. 

But  now  King  Polydektes,  a  hard  man, 

Imperious  and  ambitious,  (unlike  him, 

Who  saw  and  saved  us  as  we  came  to  shore, 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.          _.-        81 

Diktys,  his  brother,  an  unselfish  friend), 
But  now  the  King,  perceiving  me  a  man 
In  strength  and  stature,  and  almost  in  years, 
Began  to  frown  upon  me  with  alarm 
As  one  whose  rivalry  might  by  and  by 
Frustrate  the  plan  he  had  to  attain  the  rule 
Of  the  Argive  kingdom  in  my  mother's  right. 
And  so  at  first  an  oft  rejected  suit, 
Still  urged,  as  always,  in  the  mask  of  love, 
Was  urged  again  ;  and  yet  again  denied  : 
Till,  finding  it  in  vain  to  wear  a  mask, 
The  wooing  changed  to  tyranny  at  length. 
My  mother,  still  inflexible,  was  made 
Close  prisoner  in  the  palace,  there  to  stay 
Till,  as  the  King  said  with  an  angry  sneer, 
But  crafty,  too,  to  rid  himself  of  me  ; 
Till  either  she  come  forth  my  wedded  Queen, 
Or  death  release  her  ;   or  her  boy  forsooth 
Find  if  he  dare,  and  bring  me  if  he  can 


82  ANDROMEDA'S    ESCAPE. 

Medusa's  head  for  ransom.     I  set  forth 
That  very  night  upon  the  doubtful  quest. 

EUDORA. 

Medusa's  head  that  turneth  all  to  stone 

Who  ever  look  upon  her  face  to  face  ! 

Alas  !  dear  friend,  a  more  than  doubtful  quest 

It  is  you  go  on  ;  and  too  great  a  loss 

It  were  to  lose  you  by  so  dread  a  death. 

Were  it  not  wiser,  with  King  Kepheus'  aid, 

Returning  to  the  tyrant 

PERSEUS. 

Nay,  my  friends, 

But  I  am  now  returning,  having  here 
The  ransom  that  the  tyrant  bade  me  bring, 
But  bringing  which  I  shall  not  have  his  thanks  ; 
Here  in  this  bag  I  wear  it  by  my  side  : 
Athene  heartened  me  and  was  my  shield, 
And  Zeus  and  Hermes  were  my  strength  and  skill. 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  83 

EUDORA. 

How  came  you  to  the  Gorgon,  and  O  how 
'Scaped  you  unfrozen  from  the  awful  eyes  ? 

PERSEUS. 
I  never  saw  them  and  they  saw  not  me. 

EUDORA. 
Now  you  are  laughing  at  us. 

PERSEUS. 

Nay ;  'tis  true. 

When  from  Seriphos  to  the  Argive  shore 
The  ship  had  brought  me,  and  I  stood  alone 
In  mine  own  country  and  without  a  friend, 
And  knew  not  what  to  do  nor  where  to  go, — 
All  day  I  journeyed  westward,  and  by  night 
Still  struggled  onward ;  till,  tired  out  at  last, 
I  lay  down  anywhere  and  fell  asleep. 
And  sleeping  dreamed  ;  and  saw  Athene  there, 


84  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

Who  told  me  where  and  when  to  go  and  how ; 

And  gave  a  mirror  and  a  shield  in  one, 

In  whose  bright  calm  unruffled  I  might  see 

Medusa's  image,  not  her  deadly  self, 

And  by  her  image  knowing  her,  unhurt, 

Know  how  to  strike,  and  striking,  how  to  slay. 

And  in  a  dream  Hermes  I  saw  from  Zeus 

Sent  with  unerring  sword,  and  words  of  cheer, 

And  promise  of  a  helmet  to  be  had, 

Which  makes  invisible,  and  winged  shoes 

That  walk  on  air  as  easy  as  on  earth. 

So  on  I  journeyed  with  a  hopeful  heart, 

Past  Atlas  weary  with  the  weight  of  heaven ; 

Past  Twilight  glimmering  with  a  single  star  ; 

Past  sight  of  mortals,  to  the  final  sea, 

The  Earth's  inclusion  and  the  sea-nymph's  home; 

And  there  the  helmet  and  the  winged  shoes 

The  sea  nymphs  gave  me  ;  and  beyond  the  sea, 

Thro'  drear  waste  places  full  of  wind  and  cloud, 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  85 

Still  on  I  laboured  and  still  on  and  on 
Till  by  and  by  I  knew  that  I  was  there  : 
An  awful  place  inhuman  and  alone  ; 
There  the  sun  shines  not,  and  the  moon  is  gone, 
The  white  stars  dwindle,  and  a  something  moans  ; 
For  'tis  not  utter  darkness,  utter  cold, 
Not  dark  enough  to  quite  put  out  the  eyes, 
Not  cold  enough  to  quite  benumb  the  heart, 
Darkness  that  broods  upon,  and  cold  that  aches  ; 
Nor  is  it  life,  nor  is  it  death,  but  still 
Something  between  them  that  may  live  or  die. 
And  like  the  place  the  face  was  that  I  saw 
Reflected  sleeping  in  the  silvery  shield ; 
And  now  'twas  deadly,  'twas  so  cold  and  hard, 
And  now  'twas  pitiful,  so  full  of  grief, 
And  now  'twas  beautiful,  so  nearly  calm. 
Long  time  I  gazed  upon  its  image  there, 
Fixed  in  strange  thought ;  and  what  had  happened 
next 


86  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

I  dare  not  think,  had  not  a  sudden  gleam 
And  wavy  movement  of  the  unnoticed  snakes, 
That  in  the  ripplings  of  her  tresses  writhed, 
Thrilled  me  with  fear,  and  made  me  quick  to  strike 
Lest  I  be  stricken.     So  I  did  the  deed, 
And  veiling  close  the  intolerable  face, 
Henceforth  a  help,  and  yet  a  terror  too, 
Fled  none  too  fast,  till  over  shone  the  sun 
And  under  laughed  the  waters  of  the  sea. 
How  glad  I  was  !  but  not  so  glad  as  when 
I  saw  Andromeda,  whom, — had  I  known 
That  there  was  such  a  one  in  all  the  world — 
I  would  have  gone  to  look  for  thro'  the  world. 
And  there  I  found  her  as  one  might  a  pearl 
Tossed  by  the  waves  upon  the  careless  shore  : 
Not  so,  but  rather  by  the  liberal  gods 
Brought  there  to  bless  me  with  a  destined  love. 

EUDORA. 
Now  we  shall  lose  you,  for  here  comes  the  King. 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  87 

KEPHEUS. 
Oh  !  Perseus,  coulcLI  thank  you  as  I  would — 

PERSEUS. 
Nay,  you  would  thank  me  more  than  I  deserve. 


(  They  go  in  together?) 


THE  CHORUS. 
At  dawn  how  dull  the  dew 
Looked  on  the  languid  grass  ! 
And  paler  the  stars  grew, 
And  ah,  how  chill  it  was  ! 
And  not  a  bird  was  heard, 
And  like  the  fluttering  breath 
Of  weakness  near  to  death 
The  uncertain  breezes  stirred. 

Now,  every  drop  of  dew 
That  quivering  feels  the  sun, 
With   every  lovely   hue 
In  earth  that  ever  shone, 


88  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

In  heaven   or  earth  or  sea, 
Or  cloud,  or  flower,  or  foam, 
Or  in  the  birds   that   roam, 
Lightens   incessantly. 

And   now,    'neath   the   profound 
Blue  of  the   sunny   sky, 
How   musically  sound 
The   breezes  gliding  by ; 
And   sweet  the  noises   are 
Of  wandering   birds   and   bees, 
And  sweet   too  is   the  sea's 
Low  murmur  from  afar. 

And  doves   on   easy  wings, 
Snow-white   in   pure  blue  air, 
Follow  in  airy  rings 
Each   other  here  and   there ; 
O*r   on   the   sunny   roof 
Make  a  voluptuous  moan, 


ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE.  89 

Like  the   undreaded   tone 
Of  thunder   gone   aloof. 

How   beautiful   it   is ! 
Ah !   surely   in   the   earth 
A   lovelier  morn  than   this 
Had    never   yet  a   birth  : 
Save    that,    when  first  from   sleep 
The  earth   awoke   at    last, 
And   breathing   low   and   fast 
Began   to  watch   the   deep  ; 

And  beautifully  bare, 
Unshaded   by  a  cloud, 
Was  not  the   sea   aware 
That  feared   to   breathe   aloud  ? 
And   o'er   the    panting    sea, 
And    'neath   the  leaning   sky, 
The   breezes   were    a   sigh 
Of  charmed    expectancy  : — 


90  ANDROMEDA'S   ESCAPE. 

For  that,   that   was  the   morn 
Which   after   a  long   night, 
Saw  Aphrodite  born 
To  fill    the  world   with  light  ; 
And   fill   with   light   the   eyes 
That   looked  for   death,  and   lo  ! 
'Twas   Love   that  dazzled   so, 
As   day  began   to   rise  ! 


(Entering:  after  the  song). 

Girls,  did  he  tell  you  who  he  is  and  what 
This  wandering  hero  ?  has  he  any  name  ? 

EUDORA. 

Perseus  the  son  of  Danae,  the  Prince 
Of  the  Argive  country,  and  to  be  its  King. 

PHINEUS. 

So  he  says,  yes  ;    and  how  then  came  he  here, 
Whence  coming  and  where  going  all  alone  ? 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE.  91 

EUDORA. 

From  seeking  ransom  he  is  on  his  way 
To  free  his  mother  from  a  tyrant's  hands. 

PHINEUS. 

What  tyrant  and  what  mother  ?  but  it  serves  : 
Kepheus  is  grateful  and  besides  is  rich. 

EUDORA. 
He  has  the  ransom,  which  he  won,  not  asked  : 

Medusa's  head  that  turneth  men  to  stone. 

• 

PHINEUS. 
His  tongue  at  least  it  did  not  turn  to  stone. 

EUDORA. 
No  ;  nor  his  heart  that  shrank  not,  nor  his  arm. 

PHINEUS. 
By  Heaven,  nor  mine,  if  that  is  what  you  mean. 


92  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

EUDORA. 
That  Perseus  saved  Andromeda  I  mean. 

PHINEUS. 
And  so  'd  have  I,  had  I  not  thought  her  dead. 

EUDORA. 
But  as  for  him  he  saw  she  was  alive. 

PHINEUS. 
Not  seeking  her  he  found  her  but  by  chance. 

EUDORA. 
No  one  entreated  him  to  go,  you  mean. 

PHINEUS. 
He  had  a  happy  chance  is  what  I  mean. 

EUDORA. 
And  made  a  happy  use  of  it,  it  seems. 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE.  93 

PHINEUS. 

Well,  take  him  for  a  hero  if  you  will. — 
Nay,  nay,  I  am  but  jesting  : — 'twas  a  deed 
Worth  praise  and  gratitude  ;  I  praise  him  too, 

And  am  most  grateful  to  him  ;  I  have  cause, 

i 

You  know  what  cause  I  have  for  gratitude. 

I  love  Andromeda,  have  loved  her  long, 

The  Queen  has  promised  me  she  shall  be  mine. — 

Girls,  we  are  friends  together  are  we  not  ? 

Befriend  me  now,  for  now,  to  tell  the  truth, 

Somehow  I  seem  bewildered,  lonely,  strange, 

Like  a  man  lost  and  know  not  what  to  do, 

I  missed  a  chance  this  morning,  as  you  say : 

My  grief  disheartened  me  and  made  me  blind, 

You  too,  you  all  of  you  believed  her  dead. 

A  careless  stranger,  with  unclouded  eye, 

Saw  clearer,  acted  quicker,  that  is  all. 

I  do  not  grudge  him  glory,  'tis  his  due, 

Nor  gratitude  in  reason, — but  the  excess — 

5 


94  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

Andromeda's,  you  know,  a  kind  of  girl 

Apt  to  be  overgrateful,  apt  to  see 

More  than  there  is  in  ordinary  things.' 

'Tis  that  that  troubles  me. — This  Perseus  now, 

Who  comes  to  save  her  as  if  from  the  sky, 

What  may  she  not  imagine  him  to  be  ? 

And  then  how  easy  too  for  him,  in  turn, 

To  fancy  there  were  something  more  implied 

Than  eager  gratitude  for  service  done 

In  what  I  can  imagine  may  have  been 

Andromeda's  too  liberal  word  and  way. 

EUDORA. 
For  shame,  to  speak  of  her  in  such  a  way ! 

PHINEUS. 

Nay,  but  I  do  not  blame  her.     I  foresee 
That  there  might  be  an  error  which  to  avoid 
I  wish  you  now  to  help  me,  that  is  all. 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE.  95 

EUDORA. 
There  is  an  error  but  it  is  your  own. 

PHINEUS. 

You  think  that  I  am  needlessly  alarmed ; 
Perhaps  I  am,  I  hope  I  am,  and  yet 
I  must  not  let  myself  again  be  foiled 
For  want  of  acting  promptly.     Help  me  here, 
You  think  that  he  is  what  he  says,  a  Prince. 

EUDORA. 
A  very  Prince. 

• 

PHINEUS. 

At  least  he  is  not  a  churl. 
So  much  the  better.     Open-hearted,  proud, 
I  think  he  can  be  trusted, — there  it  is, 
Once  let  him  be  persuaded  she  is  mine  ! 
Help  me  in  this,  Eudora,  and  all's  well, 
My  trouble  passes,  and  I  see  my  way. 


96  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

Do  this  for  me,  contrive  that  he  shall  know 
As  soon  as  possible  that  she  is  mine  ; 
She  is,  she  is.  I  will  not  give  her  up  ! 

EUDORA. 

She  is,  she  is !     She  is  not,  no  indeed  ! 
Nor  ever  shall  be  if  my  prayer  prevail. 
Yours  our  Andromeda !  that  she  is  yours  ! 
Go  tell  him  so  yourself,  tell  Perseus  so ! 
That  she  is  yours,  that  she  is  yours  of  course, 
Of  course  is  yours,  as  like  belongs  to  like 
Or  as  the  captive  to  the  captor,  go  ! 
Tell  him  that  she  is  yours,  and  tell  him  too 
How  Moiris  urged  you  to  go  take  your  own,     . 
And  tell  him  what  you  answered  to  his  prayer. 
Tell  him  how  long  she  has  been  yours,  and  ask, 
Ask  him  if  anywhere  along  the  shore 
He  saw  you  hastening  to  redeem  your  own, 
With  men-at  arms  to  help  you  ;  or  if  there 


ANDROMEDA*S  ESCAPE.  97 

Alone  he  found  her  in  the  lonely  place, 
Unclaimed  of  any  but  approaching  death. 
Go  ask  him  this  ;  and  then  say  she  is  yours ! 
But  as  for  me,  if  I  were  to  decide, 
I  think  Medusa  were  the  one  for  you, 
She  will  not  vex  you  with  too  warm  a  heart ! 

PHINEUS. 
But  first  for  him  who  set  you  on,  and  then — 

(Goes.) 

THE  CHORUS. 

Like  an  obstructing  fog  that  chills 
And  numbs  the  narrowing  space  it  fills, 
Blo.ts  out  the  meadows  and  the  trees, 
Blots  out  the  houses  by  degrees, 
And  all  the  excluded  world  around 
Makes  colourless  and  vague  of  sound, 
And  all  the  sky  and  all  the  sea 
But  a  disheartening  memory  ; — 


98  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

O  passionate  heart  and  pure  and  true. 
Andromeda  !  like  this  to  you, — 
Than  the  sea-monster  more  to  fear 
Untamed,  unchecked  in  his  career, — 
The  wasting  death-in-life  would  be 
Of  this  man's  cold  proximity. 

But  like  the  sunlight  and  the  wind 

That  shake,  that  send  the  pierced  and  thinned 

And  shivering  mists  apart,  afar, 

Till  bright  and  broad  the  waters  are 

Beneath  the  broad  blue  heaven  that  lie 

With  beckoning  smiles  from  shore  to  sky  ; 

And  green  and  gold  for  many  a  mile 

The  trees  that  sing,  the  fields  that  smile  ; — 

Like  these  and  more,  to  you  shall  be 

The  conquering  love  that  sets  you  free, 

That  sets  you  free,  that  sets  you  where 

In  Love's  expanding  light  and  air, 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE.  99    • 

Is  endless  growth  from  hour  to  hour 
Of  lovely  bud  to  lovelier  flower. 

(A  s  the  song  ceases  Main's  is  seen  coming  slowly  from  the  palace.) 
EUDORA. 

But  look,  "tis  Moiris  like  a  man  amazed. 
Something  has  happened.     Ah,  we  were  to  blame. 
What  may  not  Phineus  have  been  stung  to  do  ! 

MOIRIS. 

O,  I  have  seen  what  I  can  not  believe, 
What  would  to  Heaven  I  could  forget  again ! 
But  it  was  necessary,  it  was  just. 

EUDORA. 

Ah,  Heaven  be  praised,  it  was  not  Perseus  then, 
Just  now  Prince  Phineus  left  us  with  a  threat — 

MOIRIS. 
Yes,  and  well  nigh  fulfilled  it ;  'twas  his  plan 

That  some  half  dozen  of  his  men-at-arms 
Lying  in  ambush  by  the  Western  gate 


ioo  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

Should  silently  seize  Perseus,  by  himself 

Lured  thither  unsuspicious,  and  at  speed 

Carry  him  off,  and  either  over  sea 

Send  him  unhurt  to  Argos,  if  he  chose, 

Promising  never  to  return  again, 

Or  hold  him  in  imprisonment,  or  worse. 

This  we  learned  afterwards.     'Twas  all  prepared, 

Horses  and  men  in  waiting,  but  so  blind 

A  rage  came  over  him,  as  you  shall  hear, 

That  all  was  thwarted  terribly — The  King, 

Perseus  and  I  were  in  the  inner  court, 

Talking  together,  walking  up  and  down, 

When  Phineus  came  and  found  us.     With  a  face 

Working  as  clouds  work  in  a  wind,  a  voice 

Half  whisper  and  half  hiss,  he  first  aside 

Spoke  with  the  King  a  moment,  and  then  turned, — 

Handling  his  sword-hilt  with  a  shaky  hand 

That  made  the  loose  blade  rattle  in  the  sheath, — 

To  Perseus  fiercely  ;  and  with  heavy  breath, 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE.  101 

Like  one  repeating  a  set  form  of  words, 
Said  something  undistinguished,  such  a  strange 
Half-human  sound  his  voice  was,  like  a  moan, 
Only  I  caught  the  ending,  Will  you  go  ? 
At  which  the  King  indignant  and  ashamed, — 
Phineus,  remember  that,  that  we  are  akin, 
Disgrace  me  not  before  my  guest,  before 
My  benefactor  :  be  a  man  !    But  he, 
More  like  a  beast  that  leaps  and  is  withheld 
And  grows  the  fiercer  as  it  feels  the  chain, 
Drew  and  ran  dumbly,  and  with  all  his  might 
Straight  struck   at  Perseus  where  he   stood  un 
armed, 

(His  sword  and  shield  left  hanging  in  the  hall) 
And  certainly  had  killed  him,  but  the  King 
Caught  on  his  own,  that  shivered  in  his  hand, 
The  heavier  weapon.    At  which  Phineus  laughed, 
And — while  the  King  cried  Coward,  wait!  and 

ran 

5* 


102  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

Swift  to  the  hall  to  arm  himself — said  Now  ! 
Now  then  I  have  you,  if  my  arm,  forsooth, 
Fail  me  not,  paralyzed  before  the  face 
Whose  impudence  Medusa  could  not  bear  ! 
But  Perseus  at  the  taunting  words,  at  once, 
Like  one  who  starts  from  musing  at  a  touch, 
Sprang   back,    still   facing  him,    and   with   swift 

hands, 

Tore  open  the  small  satchel  at  his  belt 
And  crying  Take  it  then  !  as  Phineus  rose 
With  sword  swung  over  him  in  haste  to  strike, 
(For  now  the  King  came   running  through   the 

door) 
Stretched    out  his   arm,   and    turned   away   his 

eyes. — 

And  Phineus,  who  stood  facing  me,  I  saw 
Stare,  leaning  forward  like  a  bird  that  feels 
The  snake's  eyes  drawing  ;  and  then  on  his  face 
Fall  like  a  stone,  and  lie  there  like  a  stone. 


ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE.  103 

EUDORA. 

'Twas  I  who  helped  enrage  him :  I  was  wrong, 
Not  thinking  what  the  consequence  might  be. 
Too  like  his  own  my  fault  was,  to  obey 
No  law  but  selfish  impulse  ;  and  yet  here, 
In  the  misfortunes  of  this  house,  this  land, 
Was  plain  enough  example  of  the  ills 
Which  only  thoughtlessness  may  bring  about. 

MOIRIS. 

Hard  to  keep  always  are  the  laws  of  life  • 
The  most  are  careless,  and  the  careful  fail : 
And  thus  it  is  that  all  men  suffer  pain, 
Their  own  and  others  which  they  give  and  take  ; 
For  deeds  once  done  are  in  the  common  air 
To  taint  or  purify  what  all  must  breathe. 
Well,  then,  lives  he  who  thinks  of  all  he  does 
As  the  producing  of  germ  after  germ. 
And  well  for  him,  whom   though   he  know    not 
how, 


104  ANDROMEDA'S  ESCAPE. 

The  love  of  others,  like  a  law  constrains, 
Whether  to  suffering  or  to  action  called. 
But  arrogance  is  like  the  towering  wave 
That  runs  and  breaks  upon  a  barren  shore. 


BALLADS. 


HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 


"  Chanson  dt  Roland.'      See  Ludlc'ufs  "  Popular  Epics  of  the  Middle 
Ages.'1 


I. 

So  Roland  and  his  companies 

Were  left  to  keep  the  rear, 
While  Charles  went  forward  into  France, 

Though  with  a  secret  fear. 

Meantime  the  Saracens,  a  host, 

Lay  in  the  woods  unseen  ; 
Bright  was  the  morning — all  at  once, 

Outflashing  from  the  green  ! 

As  many  as  the  glittering  leaves, 

From  spear  and  helmet  flew 
The  dazzling  lights  ;  and  all  at  once 

A  thousand  trumpets  blew. 

107 


io8          HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 

Said  Oliver,  "  Now  sure  enough 
We  shall  have  battle  to-day  !  " 

And  Roland  laughing  answered  him, 
"  By  Heaven  I  hope  we  may !  " 

But  Oliver  without  a  word 

Ran  straight  to  a  pine  tree  tall, 

And  quickly  clomb  it,  and  amazed 
To  Roland  'gan  to  call. — 

"  Ah  !  such  a  tumult  as  I  see 
Of  helms  and  hauberks  bright ! 

Sure  such  a  host  of  men  before 
Was  ne'er  in  one  man's  sight ! 

"  We  shall  have  battle  here  to  day, 
The  like  was  never  known  ; 

And  this  that  Ganilo  knew  well 
Who  left  us  here  alone. 


HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN.          109 

"  But  thwart  him  while  there  yet  is  time, 
Sound,  Roland,  sound  the  horn, 

And  Charles  will  hear  it,  and  his  host, 
And  hasten  to  return  !  " 

Said  Roland,  "  I  will  sound  it  not ! 

Mad  were  I  to  forego 
The  praise  which  I  shall  win  to-day 

Throughout  all  France,  I  know ! 

"  Wait  till  you  see  old  Durandal 

Whirl  flaming  in  the  light ! 
Wait  till  you  see  him  to  the  hilts 

All  bloody  in  the  fight !  " 

Said  Oliver,  "  I  know  the  way 

Of  Durandal  of  old ; 
I  know  how  stout  an  arm  you  have, 

And  how  your  heart  is  bold. 


no         HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 

"  But  I,  I  tell  you,  I  have  seen 

The  Saracens  of  Spain, 
The  hills,  the  vales  are  thick  with  them, 

Like  grass  they  fill  the  plain. 

"  A  little  band  are  we,  my  friend, 

Too  few  for  such  a  host ; 
I  charge  you,  Roland,  sound  the  horn, 

Or  all  of  us  are  lost !  " 

"  Never  for  Pagans  will  I  sound 

The  horn  for  help  to  call ! 
The  more  they  are,  the  infidels, 

The  more  I  scorn  them  all ! 

"  If  I  am  rash,  yet  you  are  wise 
And  both  of  us  are  stout ; 

And  if  our  company  be  less 
Than  all  that  Pagan  rout, 


HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 

"  On  horse-back  and  well-armed  we  are, 

And  not  a  coward  here : 
Lead  you  with  lance,  and  I  with  sword, 

And  what  is  there  to  fear  ?  " 

So  said  he,  and  to  Turpin  then, 
The  Archbishop,  called  aloud  ; — 

"  Now  then,  or  ere  we  go  afield 
Against  this  Pagan  crowd, — 

"  Now  then,  my  Lord,  absolve  us  all, 

And  bless  us  speedily  !  " 
So  from  his  horse  the  Archbishop  spake 

To  all  the  company  ; — 

"  Lord  Barons,  here  we  are  alone, 

The  King  by  this  is  far  ; 
'Tis  not  his  fault  we  are  surprised. 

Nor  ours,  but  here  we  are  ; 


H2         HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 

"  And  here  is  battle  sure  enough, 

'Tis  easy  enough  to  see 
The  Saracens,  though  to  count  them  all 

A  harder  task  'twould  be  : 

"  Bethink  you  then,  repent  your  sins, 
Pray  mercy  of  God,  and  go  ! 

The  penance  that  I  order  is — 
Strike,  and  strike  hard  the  foe  !  " 

So  said  he  ;  and,  dismounting  there, 
They  knelt  down  every  one 

For  Turpin's  blessing,  and  again 
Were  ready  to  be  gone. 

So  forth  they  went,  at  head  of  them 

Roland  with  easy  mind  ; 
To  th'  foe  his  look  was  proud  and  stern, 

To  his  friends  'twas  mild  and  kind. 


HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN.         113 

And  pleasantly  he  spake  to  them, 

"  My  Lords,  ride  gently  on, 
Here  shall  a  mighty  martyrdom 
.     Of  Pagans  be  anon  !  " 


Said  Oliver,  "  I  say  no  more, 
Let  who  will  have  the  blame,  • 

"  'Twill  not  be  Charles's  fault,  if  France 
This  day  be  brought  to  shame." 

So  said  he,  and  'gan  cry  aloud, 
"  Lord  Barons,  for  God's  sake, 

Hold  you  the  field,  strike  hard  your  blows, 
Expect  to  give  and  take  ! 

"  Together  now,  have  you  forgot 

The  war-cry  of  the  King  ? " 
So  cried  he  ;   and  who  heard  them  shout 

Monjoie  !  for  answering, 


114          HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 

Might  well  be  moved  to  bravery, 

So  heartily  they  cried, 
As  forward  all  together  now 

They  lightly  'gan  to  ride. 

And  now  they  meet.  And  first  of  all 
Was  Roland's  sword  let  go, 

Bright  Durandal,  and  down  the  spine 
Cleft  with  a  single  blow, 

Asbroth,  King's  nephew,  peer  of  Spain, 
Who  boasted  his  should  be 

The  sword  of  Roland  for  his  own, 
Fell  silent  suddenly. 

And  headlong  backward  from  the  spear 

Of  Oliver  as  soon, 
Falsaro,  the  King's  brother  fell ; 

And  for  a  third  went  down 


HO  W  ROLAND  BLE  W  THE  HORN.         \  1 5 

Corsalis,  dead  on  Turpin's  lance 

That  ran  him  thro'  and  thro' ; 
While  Angelier  with  swifter  sword 

The  swift  Malprimis  slew. 

His  friend  the  Emir  followed  him, 

By  good  Berenger  slain  ; 
And  from  side  to  side  Duke  Samson  cut 

The  Almacer  atvvain. 

"  A  Baron's  blow  !  "  the  Archbishop  said, 

So  fared  they,  sword  and  lance, 
Peers  of  the  Saracens  with  Peers 

Of  Christendom  and  France. 

Meantime  a  general  battle  raged  ; 

And  there  the  Pagans  yield  ; 
By  thousands  fell  the  Saracens, 

By  thousands  fled  the  field. 


1 1 6          HO  W  ROLAND  BLE  W  THE  HORN. 

"  How  now !  "  said  Roland,  "  Oliver, 
How  say  you  now,  my  friend  ? 

Were  ever  better  vassals  known 
Than  these  to  fight  and  fend  ? " 

So  said  he,  riding  o'er  the  field  ; 

But  his  heart  began  to  ache, 
And  in  his  eyes  and  Oliver's 

The  tears  rose  as  he  spake  : 

So  many  kinsmen  saw  they  dead, 

So  dark  forebodings  rose, 
For  well  they  knew  that  morning's  work 

Was  nowhere  near  its  close. 

Outrang  the  Pagan  trumpets  loud, 
The  dragon-banners  stream ; 

On  came  the  King's  own  army  now 
At  head  of  them  Abisme. 


HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN.          117 

King's  favorite  he,  as  black  as  pitch, 

Fonder  of  blood  than  gold  ; 
At  him,  swift  on  his  Polish  horse, 

Straight  rode  the  Archbishop  bold. 

And  clean  thro'  jewelled  shield  and  mail 

Clove  him  from  side  to  side — 
"  Full  safe  the  cross  is  in  the  care 

Of  Turpin  !  "  the  French  cried. 

Then  fierce  the  fight  was  all  around, 

Twice,  thrice  the  Pagans  stood 
Or  ere  they  fled — too  few  the  French 

For  such  a  multitude. 

And  fewer  and  fewer  still  they  grow ; 

Berenger's  with  the  slain, 
Samson  is  dead,  and  Angelier 

And  Gerer  and  Gerain. 
6 


Ii8         HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 

II. 

Then  Roland  seeing  such  a  loss, 

(For  all  but  sixty  there 
O'  the  French  were  dead)  with  heavy  heart 

Called  out  to  Oliver  ; 

"  For  God's  sake  see  how  many  knights, 

Dear  friend  are  lying  low  ! 
Now  would  that  Charles  were  here  to  help  ! 

How  shall  we  let  him  know  ?  " 

Said  Oliver,  "  I  know  not  how ; 

No,  and  I  can  not,  I ! 
Better  than  come  to  such  a  shame 

'Twere  for  us  all  to  die  !  " 

Said  Roland  then  "  But  if  I  sound 

With  all  my  might  the  horn, 
Charles,  who  is  in  the  gates  of  Spain, 

Will  hear  it  and  return." 


HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN.         119 

Said  Oliver,  "  And  if  you  do, 

It  will  be  such  a  shame, 
As  will  outlast  your  kinsmen  all, 

And  blemish  all  you  name. 

"  You  would  not  sound  it  in  the  first 

Of  this  unequal  fight, 
Ere  fell  so  many  a  baron  brave, 

So  many  a  noble  knight ; 

"  You  were  too  fond  of  glory  then, 

As  now  of  shame,"  he  said, 
"  We  are  too  few  to  call  for  help 

Among  so  many  dead !  " 

Said  Roland  then,  "  Old  friend  of  mine, 

Why  are  you  wroth  with  me  ?  " 
"  Comrade,  because  it  is  your  fault," 

He  answered  bitterly. 


HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 

"  Brave  knights  are  dead  for  you  to-day, 

And  you  yourself  must  die, 
And  France  be  shamed  ;  to-day  is  gone 

The  Loyal  Company  !  " 

• 
But  Turpin  heard  them  and  rode  up ; 

"  Cease  wrangling,  Sirs,  for  shame  ! 
The  horn  can  help  us  nothing  now, 
Yet  blow  it  all  the  same. 

"  'Tis  better  that  the  King  should  come, 

He  can  avenge  us  then 
Upon  these  Pagans,  who  must  not 

Be  let  go  home  again. 

"  For  us — upon  a  famous  field 

Dead  shall  he  find  us  here, 
In  time  to  bury  us  before 

The  wolf  and  kite  appear." 


HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN.         121 

"  Well  said,"  said  Roland,  and  at  once 

(Till  from  his  mouth  outflew 
The  bright  red  blood,  and  well  nigh  burst 

His  temples  were)  he  blew. 

He  blew  a  blast  so  loud  and  long. 

Or  ere  his  breath  was  spent, 
O'er  wood  and  stream  for  thirty  leagues 

It  sounded  and  it  went. 

Charles  heard  it  sounding  loud  and  long, 

And  all  his  companies  ; 
"  Long  breath  that  horn  has  ! "  said  the  King, 

"  I  know  whose  horn  it  is  !  " 

"  'Tis  Roland's  horn,  ne'er  would  it  sound 

But  in  the  midst  of  fight. 
My  men  do  battle ;  cry  my  cry ! 

Bear  succour  to  my  knights  !  " 


122         HOW  ROLAND  BLE W  THE  HORN. 

They  turn  in  haste,  they  ride  in  haste, 
And  loud  the  trumpets  blow ; 

They  ride  in  grief,  they  ride  in  wrath, 
Too  far  off  is  the  foe. 


And  swift  the  streams,  and  deep  the  vales 

And  hard  the  hills  to  climb  : 
Ride  as  they  will,  ride  as  they  may 

They  cannot  be  in  time. 

But  Roland  looking  round  the  field 

'Gan,  like  a  gentle  knight, 
Lamenting  for  the  many  dead 

Of  that  unequal  fight — 

"  Lord  Barons,  Lord  have  mercy  now 

On  all  your  souls,"  he  saith, 
"  Ne'er  knew  I  better  men  than  you, 

True  vassals  to  the  death  ! 


J10W  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN.         123 

"  So  many  lands  ye  won  for  Charles, 

Such  fame  for  France  before  ! 
O,  land  of  France,  God  save  you  now  ! 

We  shall  not  see  you  more. 

"  Here  shall  we  have  our  martyrdom, — 

But  it  shall  cost  them  dear  ! 
Together  then,  and  such  a  death 

Let  ours  be  now  and  here, 

"  That  fair  France  be  not  shamed  by  us. 

And  when  the  King  anon 
Here  finds  us  dead,  among  a  host 

Of  foes  fifteen  for  one. 

"  He  will  not  fail  to  bless  us  all 

For  such  a  stubborn  fight," 
So  said  he,  and  straight  went  afield 
With  Durandal  the  bright. 


124         HOW  ROLAND  BLEW  THE  HORN. 

And  at  his  words  the  French  again 

Monjoie!  began  to  cry, 
And  strike  and  spare  not,  desperately, 

Well  knowing  they  must  die. 


GUDRUN. 

(See  LuJltrws  "  Popular  Epic$  "    and  (Miss  Leather  fa-civ's)     "  The 
Chronicle  of  Gudritti") 


I. 


Ill  counsel  gave  the  cruel  Queen 

Geflinta  to  her  son 
Hartmut,  who  wooed  Gudrun  in  vain, 

Gudrun  whom  Herwig  won  : 

"  To  Hegelingen  twice  you  have  been 

Where  Hettel  swells  with  pride, 
And  twice  your  suit  that  haughty  king 

Too  scornfully  denied. 
6* 


126  GUDRUN. 

"  If  you  must  love  Gudrun,  I  say 

Woo  her  and  win  her  too. 
Take  ships  of  war  and  men-at-arms 

When  next  you  go  to  woo. 

"  Herwig  by  Seyfrit  hard  beset 

Has  sent  for  Hettel's  aid, 
And  Hettel  now  is  on  the  way 

To  Seeland  it  is  said. 

"  And  with  him  grim  old  Wate  and  Frut 

And  Horant  all  are  gone. 
With  boys  and  women  and  old  men 

Queen  Hilda  keeps  the  town. 

"  To  Matalan  then,  and  take  your  bride 

And  your  revenge  in  one  ; 
Gudrun  will  like  you  well  enough 

When  once  the  deed  is  done." 


GUDRUN.  127 

They  bore  her  off  to  Ormandie, 

Her  and  her  ladies  fair. 
Sometime  no  meaner  than  a  Queen 

She  lived  among  them  there. 

But  evermore  Prince  Hartmut  strove 

In  vain  to  move  her  heart, 
Till  said  the  wicked  Queen  "  Enough  ! 

Now  let  me  do  my  part ! 

"  Here  have  you  served  her  like  a  Queen, 

But  know  you  who  she  is  ? 
King  Hettel's  daughter,  Hilda's  child, 

Proudest  of  princesses. 

"  And  yet  what  is  she  but  a  thrall  ? 

Now  let  her  learn  her  place. 
To  a  servant-maid  a  Prince's  love 

Will  hardly  seem  disgrace  !  " 


I-.8  GUDRUN. 

"  Do  with  her  what  you  will,"  he  said, 

"  But  treat  her  kindly  too, 
Already  I  half  begin  to  wish 

'Twere  a  deed  I  could  undo." 

So  ill  at  ease  he  went  away 

To  war  in  another  land, 
And  then  the  Queen  opprest  Gudrun 

With  a  hard  and  heavy  hand. 

She  took  away  her  ladies  all, 

Save  Hildeburg  the  fair. 
Two,  years  they  swept  the  chambers  out, 

And  dusted  them  with  their  hair  ; 
Coarse  were  the  scanty  clothes  they  wore, 

And  their  feet  were  always  bare. 

And  oft  Gerlinta  tempted  her, 

"  If  you  will  you  may  be  a  Queen." 


GUDRUN.  129 

But  ever  again  she  answered  her, 

"  I  will  be  what  I  have  been, 
A  faithful  love  to  my  only  love, 

And  I  trust  to  be  his  Queen." 

And  oft  and  oft  she  taunted  her, 

"  Your  Henvig  must  be  dead, 
Or  maybe  now  some  happier  maid 

Has  wedded  or  will  wed : 
Else  why  has  he  never  come  for  you  ? " 

"  He  will  come  yet,"  she  said, 

"  And  I  shall  live  to  see  him  come 

Though  I  die  that  very  day !  " 
"  I  would  I  had  never  seen  your  face  !  " 

"  Aye,  so  you  then  will  say ! " 

A  hateful  woman  was  the  Queen 
As  she  left  the  lovely  maid, 


130  GUDRUN. 

And  crueller  yet  she  treated  her, 
For  she  'gan  to  be  afraid. 

Summer  and  winter,  well  or  ill, 
For  a  weary  year  and  more, 

She  made  Gudrun  and  Hildeburg 
Wash  clothesjupon  the  shore  : 

Yet  none  the  less  Gudrun  was  true 
To  the  love  she  loved  before. 


GUDRUN.  131 


II. 


The  wild  March  winds  were  blowing  cold, 
The  grass  was  flecked  with  snow, 

And  yet  these  maidens  in  their  shifts, 
With  naked  feet  must  go 

Once  more  to  wash  along  the  shore, 

So  Queen  Gerlinta  said, 
For  now  perplexed  with  hate  and  fear 

She  'gan  to  wish  them  dead. 

Gudrun  looked  o'er  the  windy  waves, 

Her  look  became  a  stare : 
What  is  it  that  she  thinks  she  sees 

Among  the  white-caps  there  ! 

"  Look  up,  look  up,  dear  Hildeburg  ! 
Look  !  there  again  it  rose, 


132  GUDKUN. 

O  is't  a  boat  or  is't  a  fish 

That  goes  and  comes  and  goes  ? 

"  Last  night  I  dreamed  the  heroes  all 
Took  ship  and  sailed  away, 

At  last  to  take  us  home  again. 
Oh  if  it  should  be  they  !  " 

"  A  boat,  a  boat !  I  saw  the  flash 

Of  oars,  and  there  again, 
Look  how  it  overrides  the  waves, 

'Tis  rowed  by  mighty  men." 

From  height  to  hollow  on  it  came, 
They  watched  it  coming  on. 

"  Two  knights  they  are,  I  see  the  glean- 
Of  armour  in  the  sun. 

"  I  know  the  fashion  of  their  helms, 
I  know  their  colours  too  ; 


CUDKUN.  133 

Queen  Hilda's  messengers  they  are, 
My  dream  is  coming  true." 

She  stood  a  moment  flushed  with  hope, 

Nearer  the  rowers  came, 
Then  suddenly  from  neck  to  brow 

Bright  colour  ran  like  flame  ; 
"  Half-clad,  bare-footed,  washing  clothes — 

Nay,  I  should  die  of  shame  !  " 

She  turned  away  with  Hildeburg, 
The  boat's  prow  touched  the  sand, 

Outsprang  the  younger  knight  and  called 
Gaily  with  voice  and  hand  ; — 

"  Nay,  fly  not,  maidens,  fear  us  not, 
Come  back  and  give  us  speech, 

Or  never  hope  to  have  again 
These  garments  on  the  beach." 


134  GUDRUN. 

Yet  still  they  fled,  more  gently  then 

They  heard  the  other  say  ; — 
"  Nay,  maidens,  wait  for  courtesy 

And  give  us  speech,  we  pray  ; 
Here  are  we  strangers  in  the  land, 

And  need  your  help  to-day." 

Still  stopped  Gudrun.     "  Such  courteous  words," 

She  said  with  sudden  tears, 
"  Except  from  you,  dear  Hildeburg, 

I  have  not  heard  for  years." 

Still  stopped  the  maid.     The  knights  came  up, 

Much  wondered  they  to  see 
Such  loveliness,  so  meanly  clad, 

Such  graceful  poverty. 

Loose  in  the  wild  March  winds  their  hair, 
Golden  and  long,  was  blown ; 


GUDRUN.  135 

Soft  through  the  thin  wet  clinging  gowns 
Their  lovely  bodies  shone. 

Said   the   younger  knight:    "Whose   clothes 
are  these 

Ye  wash  upon  the  shore  ? 
Such  washer  women  all  my  life 

I  never  saw  before. 

"  So  fair  ye  are,  who  wrongs  you  thus  ? 

Rich  must  your  master  be. 
Whose  is  this  land,  and  whose  is  this 

Fair  city  that  I  see  ? 
'Twere  a  right  good  deed,  I  say,  to  take 

Such  a  town  from  such  as  he  !  " 

"  'Tis  Hartmut's  city,  Ludwig's  son, 

And  there  his  captains  are, 
With  eighty  hundred  men-at-arms, 

Ready  and  fit  for  war. 


136  GUDRUN. 

| 

Said  the  other  knight,  "Thus  always  armed, 

Of  whom  are  they  afraid  ?  " 
"  From  Hegelingen  foes  they  fear 

Whose  wrath  is  long  delayed," 

She  said,  and  shivered  with  the  cold. 

Said  the  elder,  speaking  low, 
"Why  should  it  shame  you,  noble  maids. 

To  wear  our  mantles  now  ? " 

But  with  a  blush  Gudrun  drew  back, 

"Nay,  ne'er  shall  it  be  told 
That  ever  I  put  men's  ga.ments  on 

Though  it  were  twice  as  cold." 

"  So  proud  in  all  her  misery," 

Said  the  elder  knight  aside, 
"  Ne'er  saw  I  maid  so  fair,  save  her 

Who  should  have  been  my  bride." 


GUDRUN.  137 

Said  the  other,  "  Have  you  ever  heard 

That  once  an  army  came 
With  many  captive  maidens  here  ? 

Gudrun  was  one  maid's,  name." 

"  Yes,  such  a  host  came  here  to  land  ; 

'Twas  long  ago,"  she  said, 
"  She  whom  you  call  Gudrun  I  saw 

Late  labouring  for  her  bread." 

"  If  anywhere  on  earth  alive, 

Gudrun  your  sister,  be, 
Now,  Ortwein,  this  is  she  herself  " 

Cried  the  elder,  suddenly, 
"  Ne'er  saw  I  one  so  like  to  her, 

It  is,  it  must  be  she !  " 

She  heard  the  name  ;  "  And  you,"  she  said, 
"  Most  strangely  like  are  you, 


138  GUDRUN. 

But  for  your  beard,  to  a  noble  knight, 
Whom  long  ago  I  knew.     „ 


"  Herwig  of  Seeland.     He  is  dead 
Or  long  ago  he  had  come, 

With  many  heroes  from  afar 
To  take  those  maidens  home. 


"  So  like  Gudrun  do  I  seem  to  you  ? 

Like  Herwig  you  to  me. 
But  he  is  dead,  and  she  is  dead, 

Dead  in  captivity." 


Tears  started  from  the  hero's  eyes, 
"  She  was  my  wife,"  he  said. 

"  Nay,"  cried  Gudrun,  "  deceive  me  not 
They  told  me  he  was  dead." 


GUDRUN.  139 

"  Dead  he  is  not  as  they  shall  find  ; 

If  Herwig  e'er  you  knew 
In  Hegelingen,  look  at  this, 

This  ring  I  had  from  you, 

"  For  you  are  Gudrun,  I  am  sure  of  it." 

She  lifted  up  her  hand, 
"  And  this,  who  gave  this  ring  to  her, 
In  a  dear  and  distant  land  ? " 

"  'Twas  I,"  he  said,  and  caught  her  hand 

And  drew  her  to  his  breast. 
No  word  she  spake,  but  in  his  arms 

Fluttered  and  lay  at  rest, 
Poor  weary  dove,  by  kite  and  crow 

Well  nigh  to  death  opprest. 


I4o  GUDRUN. 


III. 

"  And  this  is  the  work  they  made  you  do," 

Said  Ortwein  in  a  rage. 
"  Who  will  have  Queens  for  washer-maids 

"  Should  pay  a  goodly  wage  ! " 

"  And  so  they  shall !  But  come,  But  come  !  " 

Said  Herwig,  "  Let  us  go  ! 
Our  work  is  done — we  must  not  be  seen 

Till  to-morrow  by  the  foe. 

"  Now  let  us  get  the  maids  aboard, 

And  back  to  camp  again." 
But,  "  Had  I  a  hundred  sisters  more," 

Said  Ortwein  hotly  then, 

"  I'd  liefer  they  all  were  dead  at  once 
Than  take  them  now  by  sleight. 


GUDKUN.  141 

It  shall  not  be  said  that  I  took  by  stealth 
What  was  ta'en  from  me  in  fight. 

"  As  they  took  them  there  I  will  take  them  here, 
In  a  storm  of  fight  they  were  ta'en, 

In  a  storm  of  fight  to-morrow  morn 
I  will  have  them  back  again !  " 

"  Nay,  you  shall  have  your  full  of  fight  " 

Said  Herwig.  "  and  right  soon. 
My  fear  is  that  they  may  suspect 

And  take  away  Gudrun 

"  And  hide  her  somewhere  overnight 

And  so  foil  us  after  all." 
Said  Ortwein,  "  But  have  you  forgot 

That  her  ladies  are  in  thrall  ? 

"  She  shall  come  to  you  with  her  ladies  all 

As  befits  your  future  Queen." 
7 


2  GUDRUN. 

Gudrun  said,  "  Let  me  go  with  you, 
Long  has  my  waiting  been." 

"  Sister,  except  my  mother  dear 

No  woman  I  love  like  you  ; 
But  bethink  you  now  whose  child  you  are, 

And  I  know  what  you  will  do." 
"  You  are  right,"  she  said,  "  I  will  wait  you  here, 

And  here  will  help  you  too." 

"  They  might  suspect  your  coming  on 

Should  I  go  with  you  to-day, 
And  you  must  take  them  unawares 

And  be  certain  of  your  prey." 

Said  Herwig,  "  Dear  to  leave  you  thus 

To  me  is  a  bitter  pain, 
But  I  trust  I  shall  not  fight  the  worse 

For  having  you  yet  to  gain." 


GUDRUN.  143 

They  rowed  away  among  the  waves, 

They  soon  were  out  of  sight. 
"  O  Hildeburg  !  "  she  wept  and  said, 

If  I  should  die  to-night !  " 

She  took  the  Queen's  clothes  in  her  anns, 

She  flung  them  on  the  wave. 
"  Two  kings  have  kissed  me.     Nevermore 

Will  I  work  like  a  slave  !  " 


144  GUDRUN. 


IV. 

An  angry  woman  was  the  Queen, 
And  would  have  beat  Gudrun, 

When  empty-handed  from  the  shore 
She  came  that  afternoon. 


But  craftily  she  answered  her 
"  First  hear  what  I  would  say. 

For  Herwig  I  have  waited  long, 
My  waiting  ends  to-day. 


"  Why  should  I  be  a  wretched  slave 
Who  am  a  Princess  born  ? 

Let  Hartmut  take  me  for  his  wife 
If  he  will  to-morrow  morn." 


GUDRUN.  145 

Gerlinta  sighed,  as  if  a  weight 

Were  lifted  from  her  heart. 
"Gudrun,"  she  said,  "remember  this, 

That  Hartmut  took  your  part. 

"  For  certainly  he  loved  you  much, 

Too  much  I  used  to  say, 
And  long  ago  you  had  been  freed 

If  he  had  had  his  way. 

"  But  since  he  chose  to  love  you  so, 

I  swore  you  should  be  his. 
I  would  have  killed  you  with  my  hands 

Rather  than  fail  of  this. 

"  For  I  love  but  him,  and  I  love  him  more 

Than  ever  he  loved  you, 
Than  ever  he  loved  me  perhaps, 

And  so  I  dared  to  do, 


146  GUDRUN. 

"  For  his  sake,  deeds  to  which  himself 
Would  first  have  said  '  For  shame,' 

Remember  this,  Gudrun,  'tis  I, 
I  only,  am  to  blame." 

She  sent  for  Hartmut.     Glad  was  he 
And  would  have  kissed  Gudrun, 

But,  "  I  am  but  a  servant  yet " 
She  answered  him  as  soon, 

"  And  all  unfit  to  be  betrothed 

In  such  a  sorry  plight, 
Buf  give  me  my  rich  robes  again, 

And  all  my  jewels  bright, 

"  And  let  me  have  my  ladies  all, 
All  well  attired  once  more, 

And  give  us  food  and  baths  and  beds 
As  rich  as  once  before. 


GUDKUN.  147 

"  For,  as  I  am  a  princess  born, 

A  princess  let  me  seem, 
Till  then  I  hardly  know  myself, 

All  seems  so  like  a  dream." 

They  gave  her  back  her  ladies  all, 

With  robes  and  jewels  bright ; 
Like  princesses  in  everything 

They  treated  them  that  night. 

To  the  sound  of  music  they  were  served 

With  costly  food  and  wine. 
Strange  was  the  taste  of  it  to  them 

On  a  crust  who  used  to  dine. 

And  when  to  sleep  they  would  be  gone 

The  minstrels  went  before, 
And  strange  the  rich  beds  felt  to  them 

Whose  bed  had  been  the  floor. 


148  GUDRUN, 

But  when  they  all  were  left  alone, 

And  all  was  still  again, 
Guclrun  laughed  out,  who  in  that  land 

Had  never  laughed  till  then. 

Gerlinta  heard  her  in  the  hall, 

As  she  was  passing  by, 
And,  as  if  touched  by  an  icy  hand, 

Shuddered,  she  knew  not  why. 


GUDRUN.  149 


V. 


High  was  the  morning-star,  when  lo  ! 

A  fair  maid  looking  down 
Saw  glistening  helms  and  glistening  shields 

Encircling  all  the  town. 


Glad  to  Gudrun  she  brought  the  news 
"  Our  friends  are  close  at  hand, 

Look  out  and  see  them  on  the  sea 
And  see  them  on  the  land." 


She  looked  and  saw  the  swaying  ships, 

And  saw  the  colours  fly, 
And  saw  the  glistening  helms  and  shields, 

And  yet  she  gave  a  sigh. 

7* 


1 5o 


GUDRUN. 

"  It  wrings  my  very  heart,"  she  said, 
"  To  see  them  there  so  gay, 

And  think  how  many  a  noble  knight 
Must  die  for  me  to-day." 

But  now  the  watcher  from  the  tower 

Aloud  began  to  call, 
"  Up,  up  and  arm  !     A  host  of  men 

Surround  us  like  a  wall." 

In  haste  came  Ludwig,  but  too  dim 
His  eyes  were  to  discern  ; 

But  Hartmut  knew  their  banners  all, 
And  named  them  all  in  turn. 

"  From  Hegelingen  they  are  come, 
I  know  their  flags  of  old  : 

That  in  the  midst  is  Hilda's  flag, 
That  shines  all  over  gold. 


GUDRUN.  151 

"  And  that  is  Ortwein's  to  the  right. 

With  crossed  swords  on  the  red  ; 
And  left  is  Herwig's  mermaid  flag ; 

And  yonder  human  head 

"  On  brown  silk  broidered,  Seyf rit  owns  ; 

Irolt's  is  gold  and  green  ; 
And  that  one  on  whose  coal-black  ground 

A  flaming  town  is  seen 

"  Is  gray  old  Wate's,  the  grimmest  man 

That  ever  lived  so  long  ; 
And  that  one  with  the  silver  harp 

Is  Horant's,  famed  for  song, 

"And  famed  for  fighting  none  the  less. 

Aye,  and  the  hawk  is  there 
Of  wily  Fn.it ;  and  yonder,  too, 

Is  Morung's  ramping  bear. 


;2  GUDRUN. 

"By  Heaven!  no  nobler  banners  fly 
.  Than  flout  us  there  this  morn, 
But  we  will  let  them  know  that  our's 
Is  not  a  flag  to  scorn. 

"  Up  then,  and  arm,  and  out  at  once  ! 

I  will  not  have  them  say 
That,  when  they  asked  for  their  revenge, 

We  skulked  and  hid  away." 

So  said  he  ;  but  with  tearful'face 

Gerlinta  held  him  back. 
"  Strong  are"  the  gates,  and  strong  the  walls, 

No  victual  do  we  lack 

"  And  darts  and  missiles  are  at  hand 

In  every  tower  and  roof. 
Bid  shut  the  gates  and  man  the  walls, 

And  keep  the  foe  aloof, — 


GUDRUN.  153 

"  SjO  shall  \ve  wear  them  out  at  last 

And  see  them  sail  away. 
But  as  you  love  me,  clear  my  son, 

Go  not  a-fielcl  to-day. 

"  111  dreams  I  dreamed  of  you  all  night. 

Promise  me  not  to  go  !  " 
But  angrily  he  answered  her, 

"  One  thing  full  well  I  know, 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  your  advice 

Now  I  will  take  my  own. 
I  say  I  will  fight  the  foe  afield 

If  I  have  to  fight  alone." 

"  Come  on  !"  said  Ludvng.     Forth  they  went 

With  thirty  hundred  men. 
"  The  fools  ! "  said  Wate,  "  they  are  coming  out 

They  shall  not  go  in  again." 


154  GUDRUN. 

Once,  twice  and  thrice  he  blew  his  horn 

Right  lustily  he  blew. 
With  glancing  arms  and  flags  afloat 

The  hosts  together  drew. 

Ortwein  and  Hartmut  first  engaged. 

Both  lances  crashed  like  one. 
And  reeling  backward  either  knight 

Was  well-nigh  overthrown. 

Down  from  their  trembling  horses  then 
Bare  sword  in  hand  they  sprang. 

Hot  Ortwein  first  struck  out  and  missed, 
Then  felt  a  sudden  pang 

As  Hartmut  pierced  him  in  the  side 
And  called  on  him  to  yield. 

But  Horant  rushing  in  between 
Covered  him  with  his  shield 


GUDRUN.  155 

And  on  his  own  unguarded  arm 

Caught  Hartmut's  second  stroke, 
Which  numbed  him  so  he  dropped  his  sword, 

And  but  that  now  his  folk 

Ran  in  and  dragged  him  from  the  fight, 

Enraged  and  out  of  breath 
All  weaponless  as  there  he  stood 

He  there  had  had  his  death. 

Meantime  no  better  Herwig  fared, 

'Gainst  Ludvvig  riding  fell, 
Hurled  from  his  horse,  and  just  in  time 

Borne  off  insensible. 

But  in  the  centre  grim  old  Wate 

And  Frut  and  Morung  now 
Led  on  their  men,  and  like  a  wind 

That  makes  the  wheat-fields  bow 


156  CUD  RUN. 

So  raged  the  Hegelingen  men 

'Gainst  those  of  Ormanclie  : 
They  cut  them  down  and  rode  them  down 

And  drove  them  furiously. 

They  drove  them  backward  to  the  wall 

And  there,  obliged  to  stand, 
Fierce  was  the  fight  to  get  control 

Of  the  gates  on  either  hand. 

The  west  gate  Ortwein  took  and  held 
As  fierce  as  Wate  for  shame  ; 

Horant  the  east ;  but  in  the  midst 
The  banners  went  and  came. 

There  Ludwig  fought  with  Wate  and  Frut, 

Expecting  Hartmut's  aid 
To  enter  in  and  hold  the  town, 

With  bolt  and  barricade. 


GUDKUN.  157 

But  now  recovered  from  his  swoon, 

And  desperately  in  wrath, 
Came  Herwig,  forcing  friend  and  foe 

To  open  him  a  path, 

Till  once  more  face  to  face  he  stood 

With  Ludwig,  sword  in  hand, 
And  at  the  sight  of  him  half  laughed, 

And  felt  his  heart  expand. 

s* 

With  hope  to  wipe  away  the  shame 

Of  his  unlucky  fall, 
And  get  him  glory  and  Gudrun, 

Right  there  before  them  all. 

'Twas  not  an  easy  thing  to  do. 

Twice  he  was  touched  and  bled. 
And  when  with  one  two-handed  stroke 

'Gainst  Ludwig's  helm  and  head 


1 58  GUDRUN. 

He  got  a  chance  to  bring  his  sword 

It  broke  off  in  his  hand. 
But  such  a  downright  stroke  it  was 

It  forced  the  king  to  stand 

Till  Herwig  got  his  battle-axe 

And  swiftly  coming  on, 
'Twixt  neck  and  shoulder-blade  aslant, 

With  a  death-blow  brought  it  down. 

So  Ludwig  died.     And  Hartmut  now 
With  his  troop  came  on  in  vain. 

One  charge  he  made  and  was  driven  back, 
And  the  middle  gate  was  ta'en. 

But  like  a  man  who  longs  to  die, 

Who  yet  would  die  a  man. 
At  grim  old  Wate,  without  a  word, 

With  lifted  sword  he  ran. 


GUDRUN. 

And  dealt  the  old  fighter  such  a  blow 

Beneath  the  uplifted  arm, 
As  made  him  start  aside,  and  pause 

From  urging  on  the  swarm 

Of  Hegelingen  men  that  now 
Thro'  the  gates  began  to  throng. 

Right  well  the  young  man  bore  himself, 
But  the  fight  could  not  be  long.     . 

Sore  hurt  Wate  brought  him  to  his  knees, 
And  swift,  with  dagger  drawn, 

Sprang  at  his  throat.     But  now  the  Queen 
Who  ever  since  the  dawn 

Had  watched  the  progress  of  the  fight, 

And  seen  her  foes  prevail, 
Seen  Ludwig  perish,  and  the  force 

Of  all  his  army  fail, 


GUDRUN. 

Bethought  her,  white  with  grief  and  rage, 

"  But  I  will  foil  them  yet. 
They  may  take  the  cage  that  held  the  bird 

But  the  bird  they  shall  not  get." 

She  called  a  churl,  "  You  know  Gudrun. 

Be  speedy  and  be  bold  : 
Go  strike  me  off  her  head,  and  win 

A  helmet  full  of  gold." 

The  wretch  ran  eager  to  the  hall 

Where  with  her  maids  apart, 
Gudrun  sat  watchful  of  the  fight, 

Both  glad  and  sad  at  heart. 

By  the  window  where  she  sat  to  watch 

He  took  her  unaware. 
Loud  screamed  she  like  a  peasant-maid 

As  he  seized  her  by  the  hair. 


GUDRUN.  i6r 

Old  Wate  half  shuddered,  and  struck  wide, 

Amazed  at  such  a  cry. 
Said  Hartmut,  "  Tis  Gudrun  that  calls, 

As  if  about  to  die." 

Quick  to  his  feet  he  sprang  and  looked, 
•    And  called  with  all  his  breath, 
"  'Tis  Hartmut  says  it,  harm  her  not 
Or  die  a  dreadful  death  !  ". 

The  coward  knew  his  Prince's  voice 

And  quickly  turned  away. 
Old  Wate  growled  out,  "  That  lucky  call 

Has  saved  your  life  to-day." 

Nought  Hartmut  answered,  growing  faint, 

And  with  an  aching  heart, 
But  let  himself  be  carried  off 

To  a  leech's  tent  apart. 


1 62  GUDRUN. 

Meantime  the  Hegelingen  men 

Had  all  the  city  ta'en, 
Except  the  palace  ;  there  the  Queen 

Kept  up  a  deadly  rain, 

Of  boiling  pitch  and  stones  and  darts 
From  many  a  tower  and  roof, 

Encouraging  what  men  she  had 
To  keep  the  foe  aloof 

A  little  longer  from  the  doors 
They  fain  would  batter  down. 

There  old  Wate  found  them  at  a  stand, 
And  with  a  scornful  frown, 

Shield  over-head  and  axe  in  hand 

Ran  swift  as  any  lad, 
And  'gan  to  thunder  at  the  door, 

And  soon  such  help  he  had 


GUDRUN.  163 

From  many  a  well-swung  battle-axe 

And  many  a  well-put  stone 
That  spite  of  everything  the  doors 

Were  quickly  overthrown. 

That  ended  it.     The  topmost  tower 

Soon  Hilda's  banner  bore. 
Soon  Herwig  had  his  love  again 

To  part  from  her  no  more. 

But  sword  in  hand,  unresting  still, 

Old  Wate  went  here  and  there. 
"  Will  no  one  tell  me  where  she  is, 

That  Queen  who  loves  to  wear 

Clothes  whitened  by  no  meaner  hands 

Than  those  of  Princesses  ?  " 
A  fair  maid,  winking  with  her  eyes, 

Made  signal  "  There  she  is." 


164  GUDRUN. 

"  Are  you  Gerlinta  ?  "     "I  am  she, 
And  I  know  who  you  are  too. 

Do  what  you  will.     'Twill  be  no  worse 
Than  I  would  have  done  to  you." 

He  took  her  by  the  long  gray  hair, 
She  neither  shrank  nor  cried. 

A  single  blow  was  all  he  gave, 
And  so  Gerlinta  died. 

So  died  Gerlinta.     Much  she  loved, 
Much  may  she  be  forgiven. 

But  if  love  alone  can  save  from  Hell, 
Few  folk  will  fail  of  Heaven. 


A  SONG  FOR  LEXINGTON. 

The  Spring  came  earlier  on 
Than  usual  that  year  ; 
The  shadiest  snow  was  gone, 
The  slowest  brook  was  clear, 
And  warming  in  the  sun 
Shy  flowers  began  to  peer. 

'Twas  more  like  middle  May, 
The  earth  so  seemed  to  thrive, 
That  Nineteenth  April  clay 
Of  Seventeen  Seventy-Five; 
Winter  was  well  away, 

New  England  w;is  alive  ! 
8 


166  A  SONG  FOR  LEXINGTON. 

Alive  and  sternly  glad  ! 

Her  doubts  were  with  the  snow  ; 

Her  courage,  long  forbade, 

Ran  full  to  overflow  ; 

And  every  hope  she  had 

Began  to  bud  and  grow. 

She  rose  betimes  that  morn 
For  there  was  work  to  do ; 
A  planting,  not  of  corn, 
Of  what  she  hardly  knew, — 
Blessings  for  men  unborn  ; 
And  well  she  did  it  too  ! 


With  open  hand  she  stood, 
And  sowed  for  all  the  years, 
And  watered  it  with  blood, 
And  watered  it  with  tears, 


A  SONG  FOR  LEXINGTON.  167 

The  seed  of  quickening  food 
For  both  the  hemispheres. 

This  was  the  planting  done 
That  April  morn  of  fame, 
Honour  to  every  one 
To  that  seed-field  that  came 
Honour  to  Lexington, 
Our  first  immortal  name  ! 


a   5 

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